Occulta Cultro
by TheDroidsYoureLookingFor
Summary: In the Village Hidden in the Mist therein lay a mere child, a knife at her side and her hands covered in the blood of those lying dead at her feet. There, she prayed. She prayed for justice in this world, for the Bloody Mist to be rid of its abhorrent name. And there, a soldier was born... or rather, was born again. SI/OC
1. Prologue: The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

"Unhappy the land that needs a hero."

~Bertolt Brecht, The life of Galileo

* * *

 **Prologue: The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing**

The slums of the Village Hidden in the Mist were almost deathly quiet, a morose atmosphere lingering in the air like a stubborn, putrid stench that wouldn't fade. Few were still awake at this hour, the ethereal light of the crescent moon brightening up the starless sky as it beamed down upon the dirt-packed streets. As per the village's namesake, a heavy, humid mist hung low among the rundown buildings, impeding the vision of those still wandering the streets. Even so, it served as no obstacle to the lone shinobi passing through, his silent footsteps on leaving no indentation on the muddy path- he might as well have been a ghost, floating along with the ever-present, stagnant mist.

Jinin Akebino, the so-called hero amongst the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, had just returned from a mission on the frontlines- one that required the assassination of a Kumogakure general that had wandered a bit too close to the border of the Land of Water for comfort. It hadn't been as quiet as he had hoped- Kumogakure did produce shinobi of great calibre, after all- and right after he had successfully taken off the jounin's head, he had found himself being pursued by an entire squad minus its leader. He had managed to survive thanks to the years of experience he had over most of the younger shinobi, but watching the enemy team fight had made his heart ache as he compared them to the young shinobi of his own village- a feeling that didn't leave him even as he was back on home soil. Not even the thrill that the fight had brought him could erase the unease that lingered.

The young soldiers had fought as one, working in sync to avenge the honour and life of their commander... they were everything that Kirigakure's shinobi had been capable of, before the era of the Bloody Mist.

Yagura, the Fourth and current Mizukage, had once worked to make their village stronger, steadier, dependable. When he had first stepped up to the title of the Water Shadow, he strove to strengthen their economy, brokering trade deals and utilising the scarce, but wide range of Kirigakure's resources to lessen their dependency on outside assets. Though the main source of Kirigakure's income had always come from a single, undisputed source- the missions given to and undertaken by their shinobi force- Yagura had been making excellent progress in building up their village's wealth through other means.

Several years before the Third Shinobi World War began, however, things started to change.

In what seemed to be an attempt to produce even stronger, merciless forces to defend their village and to dissuade any form of treachery against him, Yagura had enacted a new doctrine for all aspiring shinobi of their village, focusing the village's funds on their offensive force. While the outline of his plans had seemed harmless, what shocked not only the village, but all of the Elemental Nations was the new graduation exam he implemented- wherein the students who qualified for graduation would be determined by their willingness to fight and kill amongst each other.

The worst part was that only a specific group of children were required to join the bloodbath. Those who were from clans and families that had a history of alliance with Kiri were spared- only those with 'questionable loyalty and history' were forced to participate in this hellish procedure.

Friend turned against friend, no longer allies but enemies in an arena of screams and bloodshed. The entire aim of the exam wasn't simply to eliminate those who didn't have the strength to survive, but also every ounce of hesitation that the aspiring shinobi would have when it came to cutting down their enemy- who may even be their own ally, if it came down to it. It reinforced the merciless nature that Kirigakure had always promoted in their shinobi, but the cruel method was not without its drawbacks as well. The number of graduates plummeted, the other values that were supposed to be instilled had lost almost all influence, and most of all, the village was in disarray- and it wasn't simply because the war was pressing down hard on their already weak economy.

Ever since Kirigakure had gained the moniker of the 'Bloody Mist', everyone in the village seemed to walk with their head hanging just a bit lower, their gazes a tad more distant, their backs a hint more slouched. It was as if the the deaths of all those young people- no matter their background- that had died at the hands of their own peers, in their efforts to become proud defenders of their village, weighed down on them all like an immovable burden. Despite the brutal graduation qualifications, many children of the lower castes still enrolled into the academy to face the dreaded exams- some out of necessity; for there was no other way to escape poverty than to become a ninja, some out of the need to continue the shinobi legacy of their family name, and others, though rarely, fought simply out of love and loyalty to their village.

Even amongst the shinobi, there was a mutual sense of discomfort towards to the Mizukage's methods- it was a known fact that their lives hung in the delicate balance of their line of work and that mercy would only weaken their resolve, but to turn potential warriors against each other in a bloody fight for recognition? The method was questionable even to them, despite the lesson it taught- sometimes, you couldn't even trust the man who talked and sat at your table not to stab you in the back in a struggle for survival. Regardless, it was a stark contrast to the loyalty and honour that the village once subtly indoctrinated in their shinobi during its pursuit of forming a powerful army. Even the discrimination between castes seemed to grow as a result of the changes in the doctrine. Some of the older shinobi outright opposed the new system, though they were careful to not voice their opinions too openly after the first few times those who got too outspoken mysteriously disappeared or were reported to be killed in action during a conveniently well-timed mission.

Walking along the silent streets of Kirigakure, the few civilians who noticed Jinin shrank back whenever his travelling gaze happened to land on them. Ah, that was yet another thing- their shinobi had always been feared and respected in their village, but ever since the fruits of Yagura's bloody regime had seen the light, the fear had overshadowed everything else that the villagers felt towards the shinobi force. He knew he was a fearsome man, merciless and revelling in the power he held over his enemies, but that was different- against enemy shinobi, they were even. Against his fellow villagers… they should not have to view him in the same light. But the new shinobi were disruptive and uncontrollable, creating chaos and revelling in the cowering of their own people- if they were feared, they risked no chance of betrayal, or so their train of thought dictated as per the methods that they had been taught. Kirigakure's ninja were no longer cruel out of necessity, but out of delight, and it invoked nothing but fear and loathing from even their own people.

What was Yagura thinking, continuing this routine that seemed to tear their village apart?

Jinin did not have the answers. He could only hope that the Mizukage saw something in the long run that none of them could... or that he would see the error of his ways before it was too late.

The swordsman was lost in thought, wondering just where it was that the young prodigy had gone wrong ever since he had succeeded in becoming the Yondaime Mizukage, when a small whimper of pain came from between the two buildings he had just walked by.

He paused, senses alert immediately thanks to to years of shinobi training and his experience on the frontlines of the raging war. It wasn't just his own instinctual response, but the blatant sign of fear that the cry itself had displayed- no one in this village showed any form of weakness if they wanted to live. Curious, and muscles tensed in anticipation, Jinin made his way to the mouth of the darkened alley shrouded in their village's namesake, and his eyes darkened upon landing on the scene that awaited him.

There was a child backed against the walls of an alley, cornered by a trio of much bigger children. The lone victim- a boy, perhaps? He could not quite tell- was shivering in the tattered, grimy clothes that hung off his thin frame, emitting a small yelp as the biggest of the trio landed a solid kick in in his ribs. He had yet to be noticed by the children, his mastery of the art of Silent Killing granting him all but complete invisibility to those who didn't know he was already there.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Jinin was all too used to seeing this form of abuse and bullying on the streets of Kirigakure- especially in the more rundown, rural areas such as this place. Even the children of this village were cruel and callous in their assertion of power amongst their ranks, that was just the natural order of things here.

And all the new shinobi regime did was to enforce that ruthlessness against each other as well as the enemy.

"Please, don't." The child wailed- a girl then, judging from the pitch of her voice- hands folded over the spot where she had been kicked. Jinin frowned, didn't the child know better than to show weakness in this situation? She might as well have painted a bullseye on her forehead with such a display- it would only encourage the torture of others on the streets. "I'm sorry, please don't hurt me! I won't do it again."

"We know." The boy who had kicked her- probably the assumed leader of the trio- sneered. He grabbed the girl's tangled, dirty blonde hair and forced her to look up, a sadistic smile on his face. "We just need to make sure of that."

"Please, no..." The child whimpered again, hands curling towards her person as she tried to shrink back. Jinin's expression turned grim- the girl may have been mousy, but three against one was overdoing it. Though Kiri's unspoken law was and always would be 'kill or be killed', there was still a part of him that wanted the child to at least have a fighting chance. He wouldn't be doing her much of a favour if he stepped in and then left her to fend for herself yet again, but it would be better than nothing- his honour bid him to do that much. His mind made up, the swordsman took a step forward, ready to intervene-

-and then the girl pulled out a knife hidden in folds of her clothes, chakra flaring to life and flowing to her arms as she plunged the weapon through her assailant's chest.

The swordsman halted his actions, blinking in surprise.

Without any hesitation, the child swiftly removed her blade from the older boy's ribs as quickly as she'd slid it in- the ease of which was probably due to her chakra enhanced muscles that she had been restraining earlier. Manoeuvring out of her attacker's now slack grip, she then went on to attack one of his cohorts while they were all still in shock. The second one fell almost just as quickly as the first when the child dug her blade into the pale flesh of his neck and drew it straight across his larynx, leaving the boy choking on his own blood as he clawed helplessly at his open throat. The girl, however, would not be so lucky to have the same element of surprise on her side with the third.

The last of the trio, having regained his senses amidst the shock of seeing his two comrades downed so easily, dodged out of his supposed victim's range, grabbing her extended arm and twisting it until she was forced to drop her knife with a sharp hiss of pain. The girl retaliated in kind by kicking his knees out from behind him, but the boy refused to let go of her arm and sent her tumbling down with him. What commenced then was a brawl between two starved children as they fought for their lives, both aiming to kill with every blow that they exchanged. They rolled around in the dirt of the alley as they tugged at hair, punched out at anything they could reach, kicked with all their strength in the hopes of just getting the other to stay down. They brushed dangerously close to the fallen knife a few times, but neither one of them was foolish enough to let the other get close enough to reach out and grab it. Jinin couldn't help but notice that the girl was holding her own surprisingly well against a boy that looked to be twice her age- her somewhat larger chakra reserves probably contributed to her boosted strength, but he doubted it would be enough.

It was only a matter of time before the boy gained the upper hand and straddled the girl, hands wrapped around her neck and trying to choke the life out of her until she stopped flailing. Despite Jinin's earlier willingness to step in, now he simply held his place and allowed things to unfold as they were meant to. Perhaps it was his shinobi lifestyle that taught him that one had to fight their own battles in order to survive, and now that the girl had proven that she could stand on a slightly more even stage with her opponents despite her earlier pretence, there was no reason to meddle in this fight.

It was the way of Kirigakure. When two opponents faced off under fair terms and grounds, then they would fight until one victor emerged. No one else should or would interfere.

Despite the advantageous position the boy had over her, the girl was not to be outmanoeuvred. Instead of blindly lashing out, she raised her hand- Jinin noted with intrigue that she had extended her fingers in a peculiar fashion, ring and middle finger tucked inwards with her pointer and pinky facing outwards- to jab at his eyes and punch at his nose simultaneously. The boy, successfully blinded for a precious few seconds and winded by her blow, the girl then aimed the heel of her palm at his throat and threw him off when he choked on his own breath. Finally free, the girl lunged for her knife, and all but shoved its point into the boy's throat before he could get up again, sending him to a gruesome, yet relatively quick death not dissimilar to that of his second friend.

The child held the boy down while he drowned in his own blood, making sure that he would stay down for good. When the last breath left the boy's lips and he stilled in death's embrace, the girl withdrew her blade yet again, soaked in the blood of three children that, by all means, should have had the upper hand over her. Jinin was well aware that Kirigakure's children learned quickly that if they weren't strong they would be killed, but this child had turned that very lesson against them. By feigning weakness and letting them think they were the stronger ones, she had gained the opening she needed to overpower them and ensure her own survival. She was a predator feigning the role of the prey, having found a flaw in the system and twisting it to her advantage. From the way she moved, Jinin could also tell that she knew exactly what she was doing; exactly where to direct her knife in order to kill.

She was smart. Resourceful.

Dangerous even for a Maigo* of Kirigakure.

Just when Jinin thought he had the child figured out, however, she surprised him yet again. Instead of leaving the scene of the crime immediately, as he had been expecting, she instead reached out and closed the eyes of the last boy she had killed, before doing the same for the other two that had fallen. She arranged them so that their corpses lay flat on the ground, and it almost looked as though they were merely sleeping- if not for the blood and the gaping holes that her knife had left in their bodies. Once the deed was done, she then got to her knees before the three dead children, lowering her body into a low bow and pressing her head to the ground, the ends of her dirty blonde hair soaking up some blood in the process. It was an extremely formal gesture that one would only ever expect to see when begging forgiveness from a Daimyo or someone equally as high ranking, when one had lost all pride and had to grovel for any single drop of honour to be amended for.

"Rest now, Lost Children of the Mist." She whispered, her voice sorrowful and full of remorse despite her unforgiving display earlier. "I will shoulder the weight of your memory for as long as I live."

Jinin could only stare, surprise once again leaking into his expression. This was not the sort of gesture that he would expect anyone to do before a trio of orphans that held no name or authority. And yet, here was a child who bowed before them as though they were kings or rulers, her small voice uttering a prayer of forgiveness and respect towards those whose lives she had taken. He had never seen such a display of humility on the part of most shinobi of his rank, let alone a mere child from the streets who did only what she had to in order to survive.

When the child rose from her bow, Jinin finally allowed himself to step forward, flaring out his chakra so that she would be alerted to his presence. Almost immediately, the child picked up her knife yet again as she spun towards him, shock only briefly registering on her face when she noticed him before she steeled her expression once again. She didn't speak, only watched him with suspicion and apprehension as she waited for him to make the first move. Jinin was torn between amusement and respect- he knew that the child wouldn't be able to lay a finger on him no matter how hard she tried, and she knew it too, but she refused to show any sign of fear or weakness.

He decided to cut to the chase, without letting anything show in his expression.

"Why did you kill these children?" He questioned, testing her reaction.

"They tried to hurt me. I made sure they would never get that chance." The child intoned without hesitation, voice emotionless even though her features were stretched taut with distrust and unease.

Jinin responded to that with a noncommittal hum, but even though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't help but feel pity for the child. He had always known that orphans on the streets grew up faster than others, but still, a feeling of morbid curiosity gripped at him as he looked at the child soaked in mud and blood.

"What is your name?"

"They called me Yoarashi." The child responded after a short pause, gaze still wary despite the flash of emotion- surprise, most likely- that flickered across her features. He did not need to ask who 'they' were or why she did not give a last name- the Lost Children of Kirigakure were often named in the same fashion by whoever took them in. Many of them had no family information to back up the gifting of a last name, and orphanages didn't encourage the habit to those who remained unadopted.

 _'A night storm,'_ he mused- a strangely poetic name for a Maigo. Perhaps given to her upon her birth parent's death?

 _'Curiouser and curiouser.'_

He gave the child another once-over, this time with a more critical eye. She never once shifted her gaze away from him despite the intimidating aura he presented, her grip on the knife never letting up even as they exchanged words. Despite her sloppy stance, it wasn't entirely amateurish, and she clearly knew how to use that knife if her earlier struggle was any indication. With the right training, Jinin had no doubt that she had the potential to be a skilled combatant. But beyond that, he saw something else- not just cleverness, but something that was rare to find in the modern-day youth of Kirigakure.

Sentiment. Empathy. A longing for justice in this world that didn't care if children lived or died, as long as their own goals were met.

"Do you wish to live and break free of this place?" He asked, and this time the child could not conceal the look of surprise that came in the form of her eyes widening fractionally. Turning away from her- she would know better than try to stab him in the back anyway- he then continued, "Then, come with me."

"If you try and hurt me, I'll kill you too." The child warned, before she paused. "Or die trying."

A huff of laughter escaped Jinin's lips as he glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corners at his mouth. He was being threatened by a mere child- now that was new; there were even skilled jounin who wouldn't dare defy him- who looked to be no older than six years of age.

Perhaps if he had been less experienced he might have even started a little, for what he saw in the depths of the girl's metallic silver irises weren't the eyes of a child, but those of a seasoned and ruthless veteran befitting of The Bloody Mist. The kid's- Yoarashi's- eyes were hard and cold, misted like an endless abyss that devoured all light, swirling greys in a form of a vortex of emotions. Even so, they held nothing but assurance, gleaming with the intent of fulfilling the promise that every word she had spoken carried. The moment her gaze met his evenly, he could confirm his deductions now without a doubt, _'This one is special.'_

Jinin turned back, gesturing for her to continue walking with a slight wave of his hand as he continued in a light voice- a stark contrast to the dreary and bloody scene around them.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

He didn't have to look back to know that the child followed him, even if she hesitated and continued to keep her distance. He didn't expect any less.

To Jinin Akebino, all he had done was take in an orphaned child and given her an offer she couldn't refuse. He simply intended to gauge her ability, and- if she proved promising- to take her on as his personal apprentice, as was tradition. It would take years of training for such a scrawny kid to even be able to lift his Kabutowari without needing help, but he had a good feeling about this one. Maybe she would actually be worthy.

Little did he know the full impact of his seemingly insignificant gesture, for the child that trailed behind him, covered in blood and grime would set into motion a scheme that would alter the course of his own fate.

And that of the entire world.

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 ***Maigo means Lost Child, the reason for the title will be explained in the next chapter**

 **AN: TFW Jinin plays huge part in the story but there is no Jinin tag why this.**

 **So... after six months of writer's block, I return to ffnet to start an entirely different fic. I am so sorry for my sudden absence, but well... real life happened. To any NAIS followers, I promise I'll get the next chapter up soon (and reply to any reviews that I have yet to!), but this plot bunny plagued my brain and wouldn't let me write anything else until I got at least one chapter down. Forgive me 8'D**

 **In any case, this story is gonna be quite a bit different from anything else I've written before. As you've probably deduced by now, this is an SI-OC fic, inspired by the many brilliant works out there in this archive. With Kirigakure in the picture and the story taking place during the Third Shinobi World War, things will also be quite a bit darker than other fics I've written, and honestly there are no plans for romance or pairings thus far. All in all, not the kind of story I'm used to writing, so constructive criticism would be appreciated! The OC will be properly introduced in the next chapter, so until then, ciao! And shout out to my lovely beta who puts up with all my bs, haha!**

 **Also, I know I took some liberties with Jinin's characterisation compared to, say, what the anime depicted, but I figured that I could afford to do so given his supposedly 'heroic' nature that the fourth databook informed us about. The more 'ruthless' side of his personality will be touched upon in later chapters, but hopefully I didn't overdo it in this chapter. It's not exactly long, but if you guys have any comments, feel free to review! I'd appreciate it 8D**


	2. Chapter 1: The Lost Child of the Mist

"The willing, Destiny guides them; the unwilling, Destiny drags them."

~Seneca the Younger

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 **Chapter 1: The Lost Child of the Mist**

The Last Day of a person's life can come in many forms. Some choose the 'when's, and others don't. Some are taken by surprise, while others have been long awaited. But her? She had been taken by surprise, despite expecting as well as literally signing up for it.

Death came for her in an operation gone wrong. When you were in the army, walking the fine line between life and death was something that you had to accept- anything could happen, even in times of peace, one small mistake could end in an explosion and dead bodies everywhere. Which, coincidentally, was exactly what had happened to her.

She had voluntarily joined the armed forces, a decision that had received little opposition from her family members. She had come from a rather patriotic background, many of her relatives and even her own father having served in the military- though not all of them were lucky enough to have returned from their deployment. Despite the encouragement she received, she never once told them the main reason for her volunteering- she had been stuck at a crossroads in life, wondering where to go once she had breached adulthood, and she had gone with the option that was most familiar to her. It wasn't that she didn't feel any love for her country- in fact, she did want to fight and protect the land she called home and the people in it- but she would not lie and say that her reasons were entirely unselfish.

She knew of the horrors of war and the scar it left on many, but she had always believed that if no one did anything, nothing would change- plus, being on active duty did ensure a steady pay, at the very least. It probably wasn't the healthiest mindset to have, especially given the risk being deployed entailed, but she couldn't see herself doing anything else after growing up with that old-fashioned sense of patriotism and a deep fascination with strategy and historical warfare. Thus, she had willingly gone right ahead and signed up for the army when she was old enough, fully aware of what to expect. What came next could only be described as slaving away at training, earning her promotions through blood and sweat, and learning to stay alive in a land far from home all for the sake of defending her country and the innocents caught up in a war beyond their control.

The only time she truly regretted her decision was when the cadet on her team stepped on that IED she had failed to spot. All she remembered was a sound that popped her ears, a searing heat, and the sight of blood and body parts littering the air before her exposed unit was fired upon. She barely managed to get over the shock of seeing a comrade blown to pieces right before her very eyes before a bullet caught her right in the head.

And then, darkness. Cold, unforgiving darkness.

(But not for long.)

* * *

On a stormy September night in the Village Hidden in the Mist, a new life was born into the world, while another left its clutches. A mother held the child that had been born just a little too soon, and whispered her name with her dying breath. She was a refugee from another continent, fleeing her home to find a place where she could raise her child until it was safe to return- a dream that, as she lay dying on a hospital bed, she realised would never see the light. Not even as she breathed her last was the woman happy with the hand that fate had dealt her- her child was born in a village of bloodshed and cruelty, and who would protect her little girl from the dangers of the world now that she was gone?

Perhaps it was her silent prayer for something, anything that would give her tiny, helpless daughter a chance at life, the ability to fight and survive, that changed the world that was supposed to be. A mother's dying will for nothing more than her daughter's safety in a world of monsters that would echo into the abyss of death, spurring the wheels of fate to alter their course to answer this woman's prayer.

When the babe finally adjusted to her blurry sight and found herself in the arms of the still, dead form of her mother, she wailed once again because she knew, with absolute certainty that this was _not supposed to be happening._

* * *

When she had finally emerged from the dark and stifling clutches of limbo, she awoke to find herself in the tender and caring embrace of an unmoving body that was colder than ice. She cried, fear and uncertainty washing over her like a tidal wave. She didn't know what she had expected after she'd felt that bullet pierce her skull- the pearly gates, the wrath of hellfire, purgatory- but it certainly wasn't this. She'd always believed in an afterlife, but rebirth had not been on the list. As she lay helpless with absolutely no control of her infantile limbs, however, she decided that maybe she shouldn't have disregarded the possibility of being reborn. She was sort of regretting that now- maybe it would have prepared her for this- though she was vaguely certain that she wasn't supposed to retain her memories in a second life.

Her vision was poor, and despite knowing somewhere at the back of her mind that an infant's eyes were extremely sensitive to the light due to the sudden exposure, she was still frustrated and terrified by the lack of sight that greeted her eyes. She needed her eyes, damn it! She needed to know more about where she was and what was going on, because her ears were telling her that the murmuring voices around her- everything was so _loud_ \- were definitely not speaking English.

She wished she had been given more time to adjust to the fact that _holy shit, she had just been reborn_ \- but fate would not be so kind. The moment she was taken from the arms of a dead woman- her mother, she knew because it just felt _right_ to call her that- by one of the medics whose soft voice caught her attention, a jolt passed through her body as she identified the language that he was speaking in. Japanese.

The child relaxed a little and her crying slowed upon recognising something slightly familiar. She tried to shake her head- her untrained muscles resulted in her head lolling to the side instead- to get a grip of herself; her training kicking in as she forced herself to adapt despite her sluggish thoughts. She was a little calmer now that she had a vague idea of where she was, and honestly, Japan wasn't exactly the worst place to be reborn in. Despite not being able to speak nor read the local language, the dialect wasn't entirely foreign to her, thanks to the few Japanese friends she'd had and the media she had been exposed to.

Lost in thought, she clung to the medic unknowingly, moving to grasp his arm when her tiny, grabby hands touched a piece of cold metal- she'd handled so many weapons in her lifetime, how could she _not_ recognise the feel of metal?- against the bicep of the male nurse. She squinted, trying to make sense of why there was a piece of metal on the arm of a nurse of all things- it even felt like it was attached to some kind of soft material, separate from the rest of his ensemble.

(The fact that the item looked familiar was overshadowed by the thought that she'd had friends who had similar metal accessories and the like as a reminder that there was someone and something waiting back home for them. She didn't want to remember how she'd even had to return such belongings to their families herself after retrieving them from their mangled corpses.)

The plate was smooth to the touch, and she had been gliding her stubby hands on it when the male nurse that held her chuckled, a deep rumbling sound in his throat before he spoke to her quietly, speaking in the musical tones of Japanese that she hardly registered. The reborn soldier was completely enraptured as her fingers stumbled upon an engraving in the metal, and she blinked sightlessly.

 _'Ah,_ ' She thought, _'A family crest, perhaps?_ ' She closed her eyes in concentration to try envisioning what the pattern looked like... when suddenly the answer became clear and her eyes shot open in panic. There was no other logical way to respond to the fear and despair that overcame her when, despite her blurred sight, she saw exactly what her brain had been trying to tell her.

Despite the foreign words, she was very sure the man had said 'Hitai-ate.'

She swore she could see a strange blue glow coating the palms of the medics surrounding the dead woman on the bed, even with her poor vision.

And this symbol she traced beneath her fingers... four squiggly lines in the face of the metallic band around the arm of a nurse- no, a medic- _nin_.

The child screamed again, much to the distress of the medics. Still, she found that she suddenly couldn't care less about dignity anymore.

This was a world she hadn't thought existed- one that was quite possibly more bloody and dangerous than the world she had known before. Even as she'd been caught in her first ambush operation and had taken her first kill, she'd never been as terrified as she had been when she finally realised where she was.

During her youth, she had always been fond of fiction. Books, movies, animations, so on so forth. There was one particular series that had held her interest even until her days in the army (even soldiers had to find ways to keep themselves entertained on days off to maintain their sanity), and she had been utterly invested in its plot and background. She had followed it almost religiously until it finally ended, and had even taken the time to read up about random trivia regarding the characters of the world itself. It had just been something to pass the time with, to distract her from the woes of the real world.

But that did not mean that she wanted to be _part_ of that universe. Who in their right mind would? As fascinating as it was, it was still a world where men were capable of throwing around techniques that would level an entire town without so much as a blink, where people died in wars and were caught up in the games set up by politicians running their world.

So why was she here? How was any of this even possible? Was it all just a mad dream?

She didn't know anything, and all she could do was cry some more. For god's sake, she couldn't even bring herself to voice her disdain properly with her untrained tongue, and everyone around her spoke in a language she only vaguely understood. The days spent in the hospital nursery were filled with similar tantrums, because when the time came for the orphanage representative to pick her up after what felt like forever, the hospital staff had seemed all too ready to throw her into the representative's arms. Although, the child reasoned that it was justified, given that she still wailed like there was no tomorrow even as she reached the arms of the unfamiliar woman.

To the credit of the woman who was responsible for bringing her to the shelter, she kept calm and tried to shush her in a gentle, soothing voice. Despite herself, the now-infantile-ex-soldier instinctively began to quiet down, her wild cries replaced by sniffling and the occasional babble as she tried- fruitlessly- to form coherent sentences once again. This seemed to please the woman, who beamed down at her and continued cooing to her in her warm voice that filled the child with a sense of security she hadn't felt since being reborn.

It wasn't until much later that the ex-soldier realised the woman had been calling her by her name- or rather, her new one.

 _Yoarashi._

* * *

For the first few weeks after her rebirth, Yoarashi continuously cried and shifted uncomfortably, her frustration with her helpless state punctuated by the uncomfortable heat that seemed to spread throughout her body. It seemed to hone in on the middle of her stomach, and sometimes the sensation was even painful. Though she recalled nothing of her days as a newborn in her old life, she had the very distinct feeling that this was far from natural. It was like a slow fire that slowly grew stronger and stronger, branching out into every muscle and fibre in her body, flowing through a network that operated as naturally as her bloodstream.

She hated it- it made her restless, even keeping her up at night whimpering in pain and making her extremely temperamental. She hated to imagine how annoying she would be once teething began, but at that moment she could only grin- or rather, wince- and bear it as the sensation continued to take root. Without the ability to articulate her feelings, Yoarashi's methods of communicating her discomfort only extended to crying and whining and overall being quite the brat.

It was only when Minami- the woman who had first retrieved her from the hospital- had cradled her to her chest, patting her back and murmuring to her during one of the more painful episodes, that she registered a word that she was familiar with. A word that explained what was going on with her, and why she was going through this horrid experience.

Her chakra pathways were forming.

* * *

For a long time, Yoarashi still struggled to come to terms with the idea that she had been reborn in a supposedly fictional universe. But after a while, she decided it wasn't worth worrying about every second of every day. She had died, and quite frankly, she had to move on. She still missed her family and friends from a lifetime ago, and lamented the dreams she didn't get to fulfill, but she couldn't move forward if she clung to the past. In this world, she couldn't afford setbacks, either- especially given what she remembered about the events that took place in the story.

She spent her days contemplating what she should do with her life here. She considered forgoing the option of becoming a shinobi altogether- even with chakra, she didn't particularly look forward to signing up for death again- and settling for a normal civilian life unlike her previous one. She dreamed of letting things happen as they should, of keeping herself safe until the era of peace that would follow after the great struggle led by the greatest shinobi Konoha would ever see. She imagined a normal life, a normal job, and safety.

Then one day, when her caretaker brought her along to the marketplace, she saw a Kirigakure shinobi brutally severing the arm of a homeless child that had been caught trying to pick his pocket. She saw civilians cowering whenever anyone with that cursed hitai-ate walked by, vendors letting the shinobi take whatever they pleased without paying, and that was when reality hit her in the face.

This place could never provide the peaceful life she dreamed of, for there was no such thing as safety in this village without power.

* * *

Sometimes, she found herself flinching at loud noises, occasionally even crying when a door slammed too loudly. Other times, she awoke in the middle of the night in her shared nursery, screaming as she dreamt of blood and explosions and gunshots. Every time, no one came to check on her- the few that awoke merely told her to keep quiet and brushed off her behaviour as simply that of a fussy baby. Every time, she had to lie awake, trembling in her cot as she waited for the sun to rise. Each second of waiting was filled with having to remind herself to breathe, trying to erase the superimposed image of bright flashes and scattered body parts that appeared every time she blinked, reminding herself that she was safe.

(Even if she really wasn't.)

 _'It's a sad thing,'_ She thought to herself one night after being startled awake by yet another nonexistent blast, curling up beneath the thin sheet covering her and trying not to shiver. _'When children's cries go unheard when they most need help.'_

* * *

When she turned a year old, Yoarashi's crying stopped.

The dreams, however, did not.

* * *

Everything else that came and went was lost in a blur of events. She knew that she was placed in an orphanage in one of the most rundown parts of town, where they could barely afford to feed the mouths of the children they hosted- more often than not, the kids went to bed with their stomachs empty because there wasn't enough food to go around (or simply because their portions had been stolen). Still, Yoarashi wasn't complaining. Though she was placed under special care due to her newborn status, she still felt completely out of place whenever she was placed among the other children- and not just because of her adult mind. The children in the dark, almost musty shelter were surprisingly few in number- an odd thing, given that she'd seen a fair lot of homeless kids through the dirt-smeared windows- but they were hardly inclined to mingle with each other. In fact, they behaved like no other children she had seen in her previous life- they were always wary of everybody, they flinched to attention every time something startled them, and the few of them who hung out in small gangs instead of keeping to their lonesome were often unnaturally cruel. Not in a snotty, bratty way, but rather... pointedly malicious.

It sort of terrified her, honestly. Though she wasn't a target of too much harassment because her newborn status, sometimes the more sneaky kids would pinch her when the caretakers weren't looking or pull at the fine hairs on her head hard enough to make her cry.

The woman, Minami, was in charge of dealing with her most of the time, and was unfailingly patient with her- whether out of genuine care or simply because she was being paid to do so, Yoarashi didn't know, but it helped her greatly. She read things to her and slowly taught her how to write and speak- though they all took a much longer time than she would have liked, she was grateful for every second that she spent under her tutelage.

Her first word was her own name, and though Minami seemed a bit disappointed that it hadn't been something more sentimental, Yoarashi was hardly bothered. Her name was all she knew about herself in this new life, the last thing her mother (the word still seemed so foreign, for the image that came to mind was always, always the smiling face of a woman who didn't even exist in this world) had left her, and she clung to it with everything she had.

Another perk of being reborn as a child was that her infantile mind seemed to soak information up like a sponge, for it benefitted her greatly in this situation. Yoarashi didn't know a lot of things about this world- or rather, she knew a lot, yet she didn't- but that was the only thing that being a child was good for, because despite being surrounded by paranoid adults they would never expect an infant to be there, listening, collecting information. It would be essential to living in this deadly world that seemed to run on secrets and knowledge, and she did not want to be entirely helpless. Still, they really should have been more invested in the learning processes of the children, shouldn't they?

Thus, she strove to gather information. Once, she even overheard Minami mention to another orphanage worker that the 'Great Yondaime Mizukage' had been deteriorating in popularity, and that more forces had been deployed to the borders lately. When she had heard that, Yoarashi almost wanted to cry again, for one of the suspicions she had been most afraid of was confirmed.

She was in the era of the Bloody Mist, and there were rumours of war looming on the horizon.

(God, why couldn't she have just stayed dead?)

Other things that she learned was that she was what the people of this village called a "Maigo", a Lost Child. It wasn't an official title bestowed upon those like her, rather it was just a collective noun constructed by the people to address all the children orphaned without any family background and left to fend for themselves on the streets or in centres. The hierarchy of Kirigakure was simple like that- there was the caste system from the days of the village's origins, involving the various clans and families that made up its citizens and shinobi. The first category covered the founding clans and those allied with Kiri from the start, the second involved those that eventually joined the village over time, and lastly there were those whose families were defeated by Kiri and were forced to join.

That system contributed to the village's power structure-there were the officials; like the Mizukage and the board of council members, followed by the shinobi ranks which were separated based on the three primary castes. Then came the regular working civilians, and finally those at the bottom of the pyramid. As one would expect, that was where nameless children like her were placed. Without any history tying them back to Kiri to fall back on and no family to account for, the Lost Children were often viewed with more disdain than even those of the third caste.

She supposed the title was fitting, though it sounded an awful lot like the Lost Boys from that fairytale she read in her previous life. Unfortunately for her, there was no Peter Pan to round them all up and give them safety and shelter from villainous pirates. In this world, the heroes were dead and villains lived among them, and they either grew strong enough to run and choose a different path or to become one of them in return.

The only other option was death. And she already knew how _that_ felt like.

With that basis driving her every thought and action, Yoarashi adapted to her new life accordingly, as she was trained to do. She tried not to linger on memories from her past life- especially not her death, _anything_ but her death- instead finding all sorts of things to distract herself. She pushed herself to relearn how to walk, getting up over and over again no matter how many times she fell despite the worried- or in most cases, exasperated- fussing of those watching over her. She practised writing in the dust of windows or using sticks in the dirt, since the orphanage wasn't rich enough to afford even paper and ink for the children's use. She rehearsed her reading skills by sneaking into the special study room for the older orphans- which was almost always empty, since only basic literacy skills were pushed onto the kids before the caretakers moved on to teaching and caring for a new batch of newborns- and taking out the books on the shelves. They were mostly old and collecting dust since hardly anyone bothered to read them, especially since the thicker encyclopaedias didn't have interesting, colourful pictures to draw the interest of the children, but Yoarashi lamented the few that had been torn up and scribbled over by the prying hands of the young ones. Such abuse of books was practically blasphemous.

The only unfamiliar thing she tried to gain control of was her chakra. Minami- who had by this time been convinced that Yoarashi was a prodigy with all her curiosity and her intense focus- had explained to her that her coils were still not fully developed. They would only truly mature when she was about eight to ten years old, depending on her growth rate, and to attempt any form of jutsu before then would be highly dangerous. Apparently this was common knowledge among citizens who weren't even trained shinobi- everyone had chakra in this world, some just more than others. Unfortunately, the orphanage wasn't exactly equipped with books on ninja how-to, and so all Yoarashi could do was experiment.

She learned to feel the flow of the chakra thrumming beneath her skin- it was like a warm river that flowed at a pace independent of her pulmonary system, yet felt just as natural- but despite her efforts, attempting to control her chakra in any way was met with pathetic results. It was about as easy as commanding your blood to flow in the opposite direction- though of course, in this case it was actually possible. Apparently, for all her 'genius' so far, chakra control was something that wouldn't come naturally to Yoarashi. Even trying to compress her chakra and conceal it- not even sending it out of her system!- was a hassle, and each time she tried it either slipped through her focus and resumed its flow or just burst out all at once despite her concentration. It took her over a month to learn how to do so without feeling like her stomach was about to burst, and by that time Yoarashi had gained an even higher respect for a certain pink-haired kunoichi with flawless control who probably wasn't even born yet in this world. Chakra control was, to put it lightly, a real bitch.

Still, she persevered. She got the hang of walking (at long last!), she learned new sentences and words, she meditated and continued to get a feel for her chakra. If she didn't know something, she asked, and the caretakers didn't seem to think too much about her queries- if anything, they seemed to be annoyed that she kept on asking so many questions. For that reason, Yoarashi tried to refer to Minami most of the time- when she had learned to walk and talk well enough on her own, Minami had been assigned to focus on the younger kids, but she still seemed as patient as ever she attended to Yoarashi's questions. She wouldn't deny it- she liked Minami, she was one of the only people in this orphanage who genuinely seemed to care.

"You're going to be a strong, intelligent woman one day, Yoarashi-chan." Minami told her once, when she had been reading a book that depicted the story of the Sage of the Six Paths. The woman had smiled down at the two year-old, a calloused hand smoothing down her oily blonde hair- baths were something of a rarity amongst the orphans, again due to the lack of money in their residence. "I can feel it. You will find a way to make a better life."

"Like you, Minami-nee?" Yoarashi replied, to which Minami had laughed- it was more like a sob, with how sad she sounded.

"Not like me." She assured, fingers brushing across her cheek. "Stronger. Better. The kind of person Kiri doesn't deserve."

The child had just nodded before resuming her reading again, but those words would linger at the back of Yoarashi's mind for years and years to come. Life for her first three years in the orphanage was uneventful, and for a while all seemed right- or at least, as right as things could be in a rundown orphanage like this.

And then the shinobi of Kirigakure shattered her illusion of peace.

She remembered it clear as day- she had just been in the main hall, writing basic sentences in the dust gathered in the corner of the room when suddenly one of the caretakers rushed in, a look of panic on his features. He spoke hurriedly to Minami, whose eyes widened before she quickly ushered the children to "get up, _now_ " with a look of fear in her eyes. Yoarashi was just getting to her feet, intending to follow orders when the door flew open, hinges creaking as it slammed against the wall with a bang. In walked a group of five shinobi- mostly genin, Yoarashi observed, but there was the unmistakable flak jacket of a chunin on one of them- whose grins seemed to widen when they saw the caretakers and the group of children that had frozen on the spot, their attempts at escaping to another part of the orphanage halted. They were not pleasant grins- if anything, they were utterly feral.

Yoarashi immediately lowered her head and smothered her chakra, not daring to even look up. She knew these shinobi were looking for trouble, and it wouldn't be wise to instigate their wrath. Even as she tried to stop herself from reacting to the malevolent chakra that spread out like a stifling blanket, she found herself trembling uncontrollably. Not even the usual big-talkers and 'gangsters' of the orphans dared to look them in the eye.

 _'_ _This'_ , she realised, eyes widened in terror as she stared at the floor. ' _This is the spawn of the Bloody Mist.'_

What commenced was something Yoarashi would try, but fail to wipe out from her memories for the rest of her life. The shinobi took their time pacing the room, wicked smiles on their faces as they roamed past each and every child. Yoarashi was very sure that a couple of them passed her as well, but thankfully they found her of no interest- she was glad that she had learned to stifle her chakra, it might have garnered unwanted attention otherwise. The few less lucky orphans, however, were picked out at seemingly random and were harassed relentlesslyy- some of the kids even wet themselves, and all the ninjas did was laugh as if something about frightened kids greatly amused them. They even slit the throats of a few children whom they deemed 'too noisy'- Yoarashi had shut her eyes at that point, but she could smell the coppery tang of blood and heard the terrified sobs.

Yoarashi was disgusted. Still, she could not speak up- _would_ not speak up. Especially after the shinobi dragged out Minami, who had been trying to pull them away from harming a group of cowering children, and proceeded to make a show of punishing her for her 'insolence'. They made sure that they had beaten her unconscious before they left her bruised, bleeding form on the floor and moved on.

(Minami disappeared from the orphanage after that incident. No goodbyes, no notice, nothing. It was the first time in her new life that Yoarashi experienced abandonment.)

Before, the ex-soldier had wondered why there were children fleeing to the streets when there was an orphanage right here, with food- though scarce- and a roof over their heads. Now, as she watched the shinobi who ransacked the house, stole what little they had and picked out children who wailed and pleaded to be spared- some of them silenced for good- she understood.

They could run and hide on the streets. Here in this orphanage, it was only a matter of time before the savages picked you out. She had survived this time, but next time she might not be so lucky.

It tore at her conscience, but she could only cower and keep her head lowered as the shinobi took their pick of the litter, taking their time as they unleashed god knows what manners of abuse unto the children (she didn't want to think about what might have happened to the few girls and even boys who had been dragged into closed rooms, didn't want to remember anything she'd heard, didn't want to remember the look in the eyes of few that had emerged alive yet looked so dead dead _dead_ -) in the guise of "making sure scum like you don't mess with Kiri". She had to remember that she was a child now, and was with absolutely no hope of besting the likes of super-powered ninja. Especially not those who lived in the village of the Bloody Mist.

The moment the shinobi finally, finally left, Yoarashi began to plan her escape. Over the course of the following weeks, she stockpiled as many non-perishable food items from the kitchens amongst her belongings (sneaking them out was a bit of a challenge, but she hardly got caught- she only made that mistake once). She read through as many books as she could in order to get a better grasp of linguistics in this world's new tongue, and stowed away or copied a precious few that included maps or knowledge on the local flora and fauna. She made sure to plan her escape route carefully, made sure she had the basic tools she could use to survive on the streets and find her own food, and a month before her fourth birthday, she hightailed it out of there without a moment's hesitation.

Her days of learning survival skills in the army finally paid off- she lived off the land and the rivers that snaked through the village, only having to rummage through the trash or steal if one of her poorly made tools finally gave way. The latter option was something she tried to avoid if at all possible, but with the option of getting a job to earn money out of her scope- no one wanted to hire a dirty orphan child that could try to rob you blind if you spared them even a hint of pity- she had to resort to pickpocketing in order to gain the more exclusive necessities for day to day life. She was lucky that she had the luxury of being somewhat more cognitively advanced than her peers- Kirigakure had seen many crimes in its days, and those unlucky enough to be caught trying to steal due to carelessness usually didn't get away with all their limbs intact. She hunted and skinned her own prey, set up her own shelter, and tried to keep warm and hidden at night when she slept- it was a tiresome, dangerous way of living, but it was the only way she knew.

Still, those days of wandering as she sought a place to sleep for the night gave her the chance to see more of the world outside the walls of the orphanage. Rivers ran through the village like an interspersed network, some running as clear as crystal, others running thick with sludge that turned the water the same colour as her dirtied hair. There were lush forests filled with plants she had never seen before- many of which were fatal if ingested, she knew that much from the book that she had swiped- and some of the animals and insects had such brightly hued bodies she was certain she would go blind just from looking at them too long. Many of the creatures in the forests were larger than life as well- that giant centipede she had tripped over, for example, had her scrambling for cover and it had taken all of her power not to faint on the spot. The wildlife was more diverse than she'd expected for a village always shrouded in mist, and she had to say it was a pleasant surprise. Whenever she found the time to meditate within the forests to recover from another bad dream- they still wouldn't leave, if anything they had gotten worse- she could almost feel the chakra; the _life_ pulsing in the earth, the trees, the very air she breathed. It made her feel at peace with the world and herself, almost making her feel safe.

This place was actually- dare she say it?- more beautiful than she had ever hoped to imagine.

There were people in the village too, that- despite the cruelty and violence she was used to seeing as she grew up in the orphanage- were nicer than she'd ever hoped. The lady who had let her hide behind her stall when she'd almost slipped up after pickpocketing a clansman. The old man who worked in the fields and had deliberately left that small basket of fruit out even though he had definitely noticed her watching from a distance. That kunoichi who had seen her shivering in the cold when she first experienced snow in Kiri since she left the orphanage and, instead of abusing her further in her vulnerable state, had given her a blanket and left without a single word. Despite its reputation as the Bloody Mist, there were people in Kirigakure who cared, people who still looked at children like her with pity in their eyes and wished they could help. People who were kind despite it all.

It was enough to ensure that she didn't entirely hate her new birthplace with all her heart.

Even so, the child kept her head low, not wanting to attract unnecessary scrutiny from any of the shinobi, civilians or even the gangs of her fellow homeless. To be part of a gang was tempting to most who lived on the streets- the numbers offered protection and even provisions- but the idea of bowing to the whims of a leader in order to not be offed by one of her own didn't appeal to her. There was too much risk involved, the orphans of Kirigakure were just as ruthless as the shinobi that walked the streets. Solitude was safe. Solitude was reliable.

However, that didn't stop her from running into trouble when she finally slipped up.

It was a stupid, careless action on her part one night, over a year after she had run away. She had lit a fire at night too close to the town after catching a fish from the river, and she had only just finished roasting it when she heard the footsteps. She suppressed her chakra almost instinctively and threw dirt over the flickering flames to extinguish the fire, but it was too late. The trio of boys that emerged from the darkness wore smiles that reminded her of those shinobi that had ransacked her orphanage barely a year ago, and it made her muscles tense and heartbeat quicken.

"Well, well." The one who appeared to be the oldest- he was taller and bigger than the other two- smirked as he approached, forcing Yoarashi to take a step back. Her retreat only made his smirk widen. "What do we have here? C'mon, kid, ain't ya gonna share?"

Yoarashi pointedly kept her expression neutral, but she extended one of the roasted fish to the trio anyway. The shortest one snatched it eagerly, snickering alongside his friends.

"Easy pickings." He jeered, digging into the the fish almost immediately. Yoarashi lamented the loss of a meal for the night, but she decided she could afford one night without food. While the boys were preoccupied with trying to get their friend to share, Yoarashi tried to sneak away, slowly taking a few steps back in preparation to flee. She was prepared to direct her chakra to her feet and run, but then the leader looked back at her and clapped a hand over her shoulder.

"Now, now. Slow down there, sweetheart." He purred as he leaned close. Yoarashi had to suppress the urge to flinch away. "We couldn't help but notice that little pickpocketing stunt of yours earlier today. Now we don't mean to be rude, but..." Here, his voice lost its playful edge, his expression turning grim. "This here is our turf."

Yoarashi's breath caught as she remembered what the boy was talking about. She had been running a little short, so she'd hidden near a corner of the marketplace and waited until one of the stalls' patrons got a bit careless while haggling with the owner. It had been quick- easier compared to most others she'd stolen from before- but she should have known she wouldn't be let off so easily. She hadn't known anyone was watching.

And now she was caught.

She had to escape. She hadn't fought for survival all this time just to let it end here.

"I don't want to fight." She replied, keeping her voice steady as she abruptly shook off the boy's grip on her shoulder. She looked him in the eye as she retreated a few paces- Kirigakure respected strength, if she could prove she wasn't submissive, perhaps they would back off.

"Now that's a real shame." Another boy with messy brown hair, who stood a few inches shorter than the oldest, chimed in with a feral smile on his face. The youngest was stalking forward as well, and Yoarashi really, _really_ didn't like the look in their eyes as they all followed her steps. "Because we do. Need to make an example of you, see."

Yoarashi did the smart thing- she ran. They seemed to have expected that, and they gave chase immediately, calling out slurs and curses as they tried to catch her. Yoarashi knew she couldn't outrun them for long- they were older, bigger, stronger than she was- but she had a plan in mind... one she didn't really want to execute.

Her hand went to the knife concealed on her person- the knife they weren't aware she had.

 _'Leave me alone_ ,' She begged internally- not for her own sake, but theirs. _'Please, just leave me alone.'_

They didn't. And so she was forced to play her hand.

She lured them into a dark alleyway where, if there were any, other members of their gang wouldn't be able to notice them and interfere. She deceived them into believing she was weak, vulnerable, not yet releasing the iron grip she kept on her chakra. Tricked them into being overconfident and believing that they had the upper hand. Like a fly waltzing into the den of a spider, they didn't see the trap she had laid out until they were stuck in it- or rather, until one of them ended up with her knife lodged just beneath his ribs.

The process was messy. She had managed to take down another one in his shock, but the third got his wits together in time to dodge out of the way. It was a brutal struggle- he was much bigger and much stronger than she was, able to land a few blows of his own that left their mark. Even so, she managed to emerge victorious when she plunged that knife into his throat, and stared into his shocked, twisted face as he tried to breathe and only ended up choking on his own blood. It was a gruesome sight that made her mouth curl in disgust at her own actions- she had just killed three children, and she'd had no other choice. She had killed three children so that _she_ herself could live.

(The same way she had killed the rest of her unit by _not noticing that bomb_ -)

What kind of person would let a village with so much potential degrade into this festering mess?

Almost absently, the girl reached up and closed the eyes of the final boy she had sent into death's clutches, getting up and doing the same for the other two. She then rose on shaky legs, dragging the bodies of the other two towards the last one and laying them all side by side, though such actions served no purpose in death. Yoarashi then got to her knees, pressing her forehead and her palms to the ground as she bowed lowly towards the bodies in the alleyway. Rising from her bow, the girl muttered a prayer for the three orphans who no one would miss or even notice were gone- except her.

"Forgive me." She murmured, her eyes unfocused as she stared down at the bodies. "I will shoulder the weight of your memory for as long as I live. Rest now, Lost Children of the Mist."

It wasn't much, but it was all she could do. At the very least, she had known that these children had existed, even if she did not known their names.

After permitting a moment of silence in respect, Yoarashi straightened up from her bow and sighed, looking down at her bloodied hands and torn attire. She felt tremors beginning to course through her limbs, and she grit her teeth as she tried to force down the sensation. She was beginning to feel the crushing guilt and desperation weigh down on her (my fault my fault _my fault_ -) as it sometimes did when something set her off, but she took deep breaths and tried to keep her mind focused on other matters. Just then, however, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly rose, a tingling feeling running down her spine.

 _'Someone is here.'_

Yoarashi turned her head, eyes darting across the entire alley, and it was all she could do to stop herself from shaking as she got to her feet. Her tiny, five year-old self was mentally and physically exhausted, and it was taking its toll. Even so, her hands gripped the handle of her knife as she noticed the figure standing- just out of her reach- behind her, readying herself to strike if necessary.

A man clad in battle gear, with a bulky frame and somewhat familiar features stared down at her (he hadn't even made a sound upon approaching, she noted at the back of her mind), his brown hair tied into a samurai's topknot and his expression so serious it appeared as though his face was carved out of stone. He wore a Kirigakure hitai-ate in the form of a bandanna over his head, the sight making her tense almost instinctively when she saw it. Her fingers clenched even tighter around the knife still stained in the blood of the children lying on the ground- she would not win against a shinobi in a fight, but she would not let herself appear vulnerable in front of him. Bravado was usually discouraged when one tried to avoid being noticed and persecuted by shinobi, but there was no point to pretending otherwise. She had just murdered three boys, and the evidence was laid bare for the world to see. There would be no deceiving this man.

She wouldn't lie, her blood turned to ice and she could hear her own heart beating in her ears as memories of the orphanage attack came to the forefront of her mind. But there was no going back.

"Why did you kill these children?"

...That was not what she had been expecting. Regardless, Yoarashi found herself answering the question without even thinking.

"They tried to hurt me. I made sure they would never get that chance." Survival of the fittest- Kirigakure's unspoken, most vital rule. She would regret the murder of young ones who had no control over their lot in life, but she would not regret doing what she had to in order to stay alive.

A brief glimpse of... something flashed through the shinobi's eyes, passing too quickly for her to identify. She would know only much later that it was pity that the man had felt for her, mixed with a hint of grudging admiration.

He stared her down for a good few seconds longer, as if pondering where to go now that he had an answer to his question. He didn't look like he was about to kill her, at least, and that gave her time to ponder why he looked so familiar to her. She was positive that she had seen him in that series she had watched a lifetime ago, but who was he? Probably not a major character, if she couldn't remember...

"What is your name?" He spoke all of a sudden, halting her process of racking through her memories. She blinked once, the question taking her by surprise- no one had asked her that question in so long, and she would admit it almost slipped her own mind as well. Still, she answered, her voice flat and devoid of emotion despite having killed three children- they were so young, so small, _but she had no choice_ \- mere minutes ago.

"They called me Yoarashi." She said, the name still not quite flowing naturally off her tongue. The name she carried in another world, another life still lingered at the back of her mind, urging her to speak that instead, but she resisted. That woman and that life was long gone, and she had learned to accept it, for it was all she could do.

Caught in her inner turmoil of emotions, she didn't notice the shinobi in front of her give her a long, considering look, a hint of curiosity in his gaze before speaking a single sentence.

"Do you wish to live and break free of this place?" The question caught her off-guard once more, and her eyes widened against her will in a show of surprise. The shinobi simply turned on his heel, and that was when she saw it- the axe and giant hammer, connected by a leather strap that slung over his back. Her mind whispered a name- Kabutowari, the Helmet Splitter. "If so, come with me."

Brushing aside her shock at being confronted by one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of Kirigakure- Jinin Akebino, her mind provided yet again- the girl steeled her expression once more as she replied.

"If you try and hurt me, I'll kill you too." She paused momentarily, realising how futile that threat was to a shinobi as powerful as he was. "Or die trying." She quickly amended. If her life was to end again, she would not take it sitting down- she would fight for every chance to live, and not even one of the most fearsome ninja of the Bloody Mist would take that pride away from her.

To her utmost surprise, the man simply laughed at her words- more like scoffed, honestly- and looked at her with a wry smile on his lips.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." He returned, before facing forward once more. He simply gestured with a hand for her to follow, as if he was utterly confident that she wouldn't say no.

He was right.

If anyone ever asked her what possessed her to trust the word of a Kirigakure shinobi and to follow him without question, she would not be able to give a straight answer. Maybe it was desperation to escape her life on the streets. Maybe her mind was clouded after the murder she had just committed. Maybe she just wanted to cling to something at least slightly familiar in this dark world.

And maybe it didn't matter, because the moment she decided to trail after Jinin Akebino and take up his offer, the wheels of change finally began to turn, signalling the true start of her new life.

 ** _Tick, tock. Tick, tock._**

* * *

 **AN: So, we're still going a bit slow, aha. If the reasons for the OC volunteering for the army seemed a bit bizarre, it was somewhat intentional, as it sort of leads up to what will be revealed about Yoarashi's personality. Oh, and for the record- the caste system I mentioned is actually from the Kakashi Hiden novel (though I added a bit more onto it) and I also adjusted the prologue slightly to make up for a little bit of info regarding the system that I missed out on. Many apologies :P**

 **We'll get to some more familiar faces next chapter, but until then please bear with me! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited this story (ya'll the real MVPs), and thanks to anyone who read this far for reading my ramblings in this AN, haha! See you next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 2: The Invitation of the Bell

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."

~William Shakespeare

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Invitation of the Bell**

If there was one thing Yoarashi prided herself upon, it was foresight. Not in the sense that she had an idea of what would befall her in this new and strange life, but that she could evaluate a situation and predict most outcomes with reliable precision. She was a strategist, and though she was leagues behind the genius that a Nara in her new reality possessed, she could usually prepare herself for the worst possible outcome she expected out of a situation. She thought she had retained that trait even as she transcended the boundaries of death and entered this new life, and took pride in her resourcefulness- perhaps she was even a bit arrogant in the way she thought herself better than the other children who shared her physical age, and maybe a few of the adults, too.

Thus, the situation she was currently in was a great, humbling slap to the face.

Yoarashi picked at her clothes nervously as she sat in the chair next to Jinin, not wanting to look at the intimidating man as they both sat in the office of her old orphanage. This wasn't the place she had imagined them heading to so soon, but then again she didn't know what to expect at all. The shinobi had simply asked her to point out the orphanage she came from as soon as she caught up with him, and she had been in no position to refuse. Her confusion quickly changed into suspicion, however, when she found herself standing before said orphanage- because only a fool would assume that bringing her back would be better than living on the streets. And he was no fool.

Regardless, Jinin's arrival did not bode too well with the caretakers, especially given the late hour, but they could not refuse him when he pushed her forth and requested to see her birth records and identification. One of them did, however, shoot her a dirty look when he recognised her as a runaway. Yoarashi had gladly returned his disdain with a snarl of her own, vicious enough to make the man flinch- though that reaction might have been attributed to the blood that still clung to her hair and clothes.

It didn't take long for both herself and Jinin to end up in the main office- a room that she had only seen a couple of times during her time here, usually without permission when she was searching for things to stow away (read: steal). The jounin was blunt with his request to see the files that were supposed to be hers, but it took a while for the attendant to find her records given the hundreds that existed in the office- some of which didn't even have legitimate uses any longer.

It was during the waiting period that Yoarashi's paranoia began to set in, which escalated levels the moment the caretaker shakily placed the files in Jinin's hands. He took his time to slowly look over each and every detail of her files- whatever they contained, she did not know- and that didn't help to dissuade the morbid feeling she had that something was amiss.

"Birth records in place. Time of death of parent noted. Body disposed of," Jinin suddenly read aloud, and Yoarashi was listening immediately. He hadn't spoken at all since they'd settled down in the office, but now he was very clearly reading those bits of information aloud for her ears. As it was, he shot her an unreadable look, his eyes narrowed as he continued speaking. "And yet, I find that I only have more reason to suspect you."

Yoarashi swallowed, trying not to show the unease she felt about the turn this conversation was taking. "What do you mean?"

Jinin gave her a long, calculating look, before he finally spoke. "Can you read?"

"Yes."

Jinin didn't spare another word upon her affirmation, instead tossing the file into her lap and pointing at a particular section on the page. Yoarashi brought the file up to get a closer look, trying not to appear too nervous or suspicious. For a moment, she didn't see anything wrong, it was just information on her mother that didn't seem particularly outstanding. Yoarashi did, however, note with faint shock that she had never even known her name, or seen any pictures of her visage like the one in this file. Isane... that was a nice name. There was also her date of birth, blood type, nationality-

Yoarashi's heart stuttered when she read the sentence that was highlighted at the bottom, a scrawl of red ink against black and white. She blinked rapidly, as if it would be enough to make the illusion disappear- only it _wasn't_ an illusion. What she was reading was very much real.

"'False records identified'?" She repeated, her voice shaking in blatant surprise. She looked up at Jinin, heart pounding fast as her mind reeled with confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Jinin began to reply- but despite his calm voice and his seemingly unmoving expression, his aura changed. The air suddenly grew a thousand times heavier, and Yoarashi gasped, hunching over as her hands flew to her head. All the while, Jinin looked on without any sign of emotion on his face. As images flew through her mind- blood on the ground, slit throats, searing fires _and it was consuming her_ \- Jinin spoke again. "Your mother was not who she said she was- and that could apply to you, as well."

"But I d-don't know anything about her." Yoarashi spluttered, her words practically tumbling over each other as she tried to force a sentence past her chattering teeth. "Maybe s-she was trying to escape her country-"

"Or," Jinin cut her off, his voice cold and hard. "She was a spy."

There it was. Yoarashi's eyes widened as the pieces connected. He thought she was a plant. She had demonstrated skill and intelligence beyond her age and standing, and now he was suspicious.

He could very well kill her.

"How is it that you know how to conceal your chakra?" Jinin carried on with his interrogation, and Yoarashi only vaguely noticed it when the caretaker who had been in the room with them gathered his wits together long enough to flee. She didn't blame him- god, she had been so stupid, thinking that those genin and chunin's killing intent were something to fear. Compared to this cold, pressurised grip on her mind and heart that seemed to overpower her, that last time almost seemed like a tender caress.

"I-I... I learned." Yoarashi grit the words out through clenched teeth, though she barely stopped herself from folding in on herself thanks to all her shivering. She was scared- she couldn't die again, not like this, she wouldn't face the agony and the terror and _she couldn't breathe-_ "Practised. Didn't want attention."

"How can I be sure that you weren't professionally trained?" Jinin pressed further, rising from his seat as he loomed dangerously over her. Yoarashi scooted into the corner of her seat as though it would increase the distance between them, arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to ward off the sheer intensity of his killing intent. It was too much, her stomach was churning terribly in response to the images that flashed before her eyes- and for once, she was glad she didn't have anything to eat that night, because she probably would have lost it all on the floor. "Someone could have taught you to do so in order to get information on our village without being detected. Children like you should not be capable of using even a wisp of your chakra."

"I _don't_ use it. Hiding it is all I know." Yoarashi shook her head, her voice rising in panic. Her statement sounded more like a plea than anything else, but Jinin did not ease up.

(She should have known not to trust a shinobi. This helpless feeling- _she was back in that foreign land, with people she wanted to protect and explosions and gunfire and screaming_ \- was all her fault.)

"How can I be sure of that?" He asked, and Yoarashi couldn't respond- not just because she could barely breathe, but because she truly had no answer. She was a Maigo with no story, no family, no friends. There was nothing to back up her claims of innocence, and the only one who could have defended her; to have known her at all was-

"S-she is not trained, shinobi-sama. I will vouch for her innocence, and several others can, as well."

Abruptly, Yoarashi froze, her breath catching in her throat as she recognised the voice that had spoken up. The stifling aura of the jounin that had been questioning her suddenly lifted, and Yoarashi all but swallowed huge gulps of air when she was finally able to breathe properly again. However, her attention was fixated on the same thing that Jinin was- the woman standing at the entrance to the office, her face pale but expression set as she looked straight at her.

"Minami-nee?" Yoarashi mumbled in a hushed whisper, almost afraid that she was just a hallucination. It wouldn't have surprised her, given the vivid images of her own death that flashed before eyes, but when the woman's gaze flickered to her for just a moment, Yoarashi was reassured. No illusion could look at her with that much guilt and worry.

"Who are you?" Jinin turned on the woman without missing a beat, and for a precious moment the pressure on Yoarashi lifted. Tension left her muscles immediately, and she had to stop herself from crying out of sheer relief. She may have been a soldier once before, but the childish part of her wanted to run into the safety of Minami's arms, away from the threat that was the swordsman sitting next to her.

(He reminded her of that bomb, ready to go off at any second and he scared her because she was powerless against-)

"I was her caretaker," Minami continued, her dark eyes trained on the ground as she spoke, unwilling to look Jinin in the eye. "I held that child in my arms days after her birth. I raised her for the first three years of her life, and I can name those who are able to vouch for my claim."

The shinobi seemed to mull over this, glancing at Yoarashi and making her flinch instinctively. She braced herself to face another onslaught of interrogative questioning, but to her surprise Jinin simply turned back towards Minami and crossed his arms. Yoarashi hesitantly raised her head and watched as the two adults conversed, noting with slight envy that he didn't seem to be directing any killing intent at Minami- he could use such brutality on a kid, but not a regular citizen?

"I'd like to see some identification on your part," he demanded, and Minami's posture seemed to sag slightly out of sheer relief.

"Right away, shinobi-sama." The woman complied without hesitation, digging into her pockets and pulling out the identification card that was mandatory for all adult citizens of Kiri. Jinin walked forth to take it from her, leaving Yoarashi's side briefly in the process, and the child wondered if she could survive the fall if she were to attempt escape by jumping from the window. That was assuming she even made it to the window before Jinin dragged her back, but...

"What of her chakra control?" Said ninja asked, having found no faults with the identification presented to him.

"She has experimented with her chakra since she was very young. I have never seen any child progress as fast as she has."

"Neither have I," Jinin mused, sparing her another suspicion-laden glance- this time, though, his eyes carried a hint of appraisal. Yoarashi straightened her posture instinctively- she recognised that look. It was the kind of look she always got when she saw a new cadet that had the traits and potential to ascend the ranks faster than the others. It was a look of a person who knew their stuff- and knew when someone else was capable of excelling in the same field. The swordsman saw something in her, and she had a terrible feeling that she knew what that meant.

Hadn't the series mentioned once that the majority of the casualties of the Third War was composed of the shinobi youth?

"I want to file for temporary guardianship over this child. What papers do I have to fill?"

Given the beat of absolute stillness that followed his request, Yoarashi could tell that she wasn't the only one who was confounded- yet not entirely- by the request. The swordsman crossed his arms as he raised an eyebrow at the other adult in the room.

"Well?"

"Y-you're going to take her in?" Minami gaped, not trying to conceal her surprise.

"Do you have any objections?" Jinin asked- though it wasn't really a question. Minami hurriedly shook her head, and the shinobi nodded in satisfaction. "I didn't think so."

"R-right, sir," Minami stuttered in surprise, moving quickly to collect the necessary papers whilst Yoarashi stared on in disbelief. They would really let the man who mentally suffocated a child be the one to take charge of that same kid?

She wanted to speak up, to demand that her opinion be asked for and to not be treated like some tradable item, but the words refused to spill. Part of her knew it was pointless to argue with a shinobi, but another part of her just wanted to give up. She had been trying so hard to just survive without any plan for the future or what was yet to come, but now... now, she just felt hopeless. For the first time in both of her lives, Yoarashi contemplated if living was actually worth it. Here, her life was meaningless, just another tool to be used and disposed off when it fulfilled its function. She couldn't dedicate her life to defending something when there was nothing to defend. In fact, she couldn't give her life to anything when it seemed like it wasn't hers to give.

As Yoarashi started to seriously contemplate if living was really worth it and if there were any poisonous plants around that were capable of inducing a painless death, something brushed her shoulder. The child gasped, pushing her chair back and out from under her and scrambling backwards before ducking her head into her hands as fear and instict dictated her every reflex. It took a good few moments for her mind to register that someone was calling her name- quietly, slowly, as if they were trying to soothe a frightened animal- and that there were no sounds of conflict or any pressure pushing down on her. It took a few more seconds for her to lower her hands enough to see what it was that had touched her.

"Yoarashi, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe," Minami whispered, her hands hovering just above the child's shoulders where they had just given her a light touch.

"Minami-nee." Yoarashi's voice was quiet, carefully controlled to hide her inner turmoil as she addressed the woman who had raised her. She averted her eyes towards the room- when had the secretary come back?- as she avoided the woman's pitiful gaze. All the childish hurt from the abandonment that had filled her mind ever since Minami had appeared was carefully kept under wraps, and she tried not to let her bitterness show- not that it worked. "Why are you here again?"

"Oh, Yoarashi..." Minami's smile wavered at the silent accusation. "I'm so sorry. I didn't... it was a moment of weakness. I am sorry."

"You abandoned me," Yoarashi said flatly, turning away so Minami couldn't see the conflicting emotions that she was sure showed on her face. There was no doubting the attachment she felt towards the woman- she was an older sibling, maybe even someone she could have called a maternal figure if she had been a normal child- but right as they were reunited, Yoarashi was the one who had to leave. There was little room for regret in Yoarashi's mind, but there was a sense of shame at the back of her mind- shame at the spiteful glee she felt at being able to let Minami taste abandonment as well. "I can understand your reasons, but I can't forgive you yet. Please understand."

She knew the look that would be on Minami's face even before she turned back around. Eyes trained on the ground, hands clasped tightly, remorse written in every inch of her posture. Yoarashi might have felt ashamed she didn't feel so numb.

"This is a new opportunity for you," Minami suddenly whispered as she looked up, voice firm despite the watery look in her warm, brown eyes. Yoarashi didn't know what the woman saw when she looked at her, but there was no denying the pride in her voice- it made her feel more uncomfortable than anything else. "A chance for you to escape this life. You can become great."

At those words, Yoarashi's hands fisted in the tattered fabric of her clothes, and she could barely hold back the grimace that threatened to stretch across her face. Ash grey eyes spared a glance at the swordsman sitting at the desk once again, filling out the official papers that would place her under his care. There were no background checks, no inspections, nothing that would ensure her safety or wellbeing the moment he took her in. If he were to adopt her only to take advantage of her in any way, no one would care. She was nothing more than property.

It scared her. It scared her more than she'd like to admit, but she was the one who decided to follow him. Whatever happened now would only be her fault.

"I could die, or end up worse off with this shinobi," She snarled, spitting out the last word out as if it was poison. "You don't know what he wants from me."

"I have no intention of harming a child, even one as impudent as you." Jinin turned from where he had been filling out the documents, arrogance clear in his voice. "I am not without honour."

"Then what do you want?" Yoarashi retaliated, barely keeping her tone in check.

"For a child who pretends to know so much, you're not as smart as you would like to think," Yoarashi frowned at Jinin's comment, but before she could bite out a reply that she would have definitely regretted, Jinin continued. "It is a known tradition in Kiri for the talents and skills required to harness the Seven Blades to be passed on to a chosen apprentice. It's an inheritance cycle- one that you might just qualify for." He paused briefly, still not looking up from the papers as he said, "Close your mouth. You will catch flies."

Yoarashi took a while to respond to that- and heed his instruction- her brain having come to an abrupt halt in its cognitive process. With no lack of disbelief in her tone, she said, "You would choose to pass your skills on to a Maigo."

"Don't think so highly of yourself. This is just a trial- if I deem you unworthy of my time, I won't hesitate to drop you back where I found you," Jinin said lightly. Yoarashi shivered at his words, because all that ran through her mind at that point was that the man had found her in a pool of innocent blood. Blind to the child's inner turmoil, Jinin then turned a steely gaze onto Yoarashi as he continued.

"And you will address me with more respect if you wish to keep your tongue- a mute apprentice is a hindrance I can live with." A hint of killing intent filled the air once again, and Yoarashi shivered instinctively as the shinobi rose to his feet. His dark eyes bore into hers, suddenly making her feel very small. "I am Jinin Akebino, of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, and from here on I am your superior. Bear that in mind."

"...As you command." Yoarashi accepted his reprimand, chagrin colouring her features as she fell back upon her years of military discipline to save her face. Jinin raised an eyebrow at her expectantly, and Yoarashi held back a grimace- it had been a long time since she'd been a private, and it was humbling to have to be put back in such a low position once again. With barely repressed disdain, she mumbled, "Shishou."

The swordsman seemed satisfied at last with her reply- the old, obnoxious fart, she growled in her head- and turned away, handing over the completed forms to the secretary. When he made to return the files as well, however, Yoarashi found her hand shooting out and her heart leaping into her throat as she reacted without thinking.

"Wait!" She cried out, though she clamped her mouth shut immediately after doing so. However, it was too late- everyone in the room was watching her now, and Yoarashi quickly withdrew her hand and straightened her posture as she lowered her gaze. "Permission to make a request, shishou?"

If Jinin was surprised, he didn't show it. He just gestured for Yoarashi to continue, and so she did.

"I'd like to keep my mother's profile," she requested, though she quickly amended her words when Jinin's eyes narrowed. "Or... just one of her pictures, if that's possible."

The shinobi stared at her for a few more seconds, as if trying to examine her intents. Yoarashi met his gaze evenly- despite her nerves, she knew she wasn't planning anything that would be viewed as suspect. She just wanted a photo of her mother. She knew absolutely nothing about the woman, and she felt nothing for her, but it just... seemed like the right thing to do. It would ease her conscience.

Finding nothing in her expression that implied any untoward intentions, Jinin glanced back at the assistant. "Would that be permitted?"

"Yes, sir." The man nodded hesitantly, though he appeared rather reluctant. Once he retrieved the photo from the file, Yoarashi took it from him with an almost reverent delicacy, fearing that she would tear it without meaning to. As she glanced back at the shinobi who watched her with a bored, yet highly alert look in his eyes, she swallowed her pride and bowed towards him again.

"Thank you very much, shishou," Yoarashi said, making sure not to express too much gratitude with her tone of voice. The last thing she needed was for the shinobi to think she was indebted to him in any way.

If Jinin noticed, he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked straight towards the door, Minami scuttling out of his way without him needing to even slow his brisk pace. He only paused when he had opened the door, merely beckoning for her to follow with a wave of his hand.

"Come. The hour is late- the sooner we return, the better."

Yoarashi complied instinctively upon hearing the authority in his voice, but she stopped when she noticed the pair of forlorn, deep brown eyes that had not left her for a while. She swallowed a sigh, turning towards Minami and meeting her eye for what she hoped would be the last time.

(She didn't need someone who would turn their back on her. She could not afford forgiveness.)

"Thank you for everything, Minami-nee," she said, her voice a little less curt than she would have liked. And then she left, not glancing back even once at the woman who had been the first one to ever show her kindness. The person who taught her to read and write and talk. The only one who knew her as something... more.

Yoarashi was almost certain she would never see Minami ever again, not of her own volition after experiencing the sting of her betrayal. And yet, she just couldn't look her in the eye and speak the one word that refused to fall from her lips.

 _Goodbye._

* * *

Another stop was made before Yoarashi and her newfound master- the word was still so odd- returned to his residence. It had been a request on her part to drop by the patch of forest where she had stored her belongings beneath the roots of a tree, for regardless of how luck- or misfortune- had dealt her a hand, she was not willing to enter into a guardianship without something of hers at hand. Jinin had raised an eyebrow when he took note of all the items she'd had in her possession- he eyed the simple contraptions and tools she'd made with especially keen interest- but otherwise, he said nothing.

The man was absurdly difficult to get a read on, and Yoarashi was almost disappointed- almost, because she would rather have a stone faced, stern guardian over one that could be half mad with battle lust. She didn't know if that trait was entirely absent in Jinin, but if it was, she was grateful that he seemed able to suppress such an attitude outside of the battlefield. Such conditioning was, admittedly, impressive.

He lived in an apartment complex just on the outskirts of the village centre, a rather plain building of which rooms were rented out to shinobi who required lodgings not too far nor too close to the missions office. As they passed each room, Yoarashi noticed that the complex was oddly quiet compared to most of the other residences that she'd seen in the slums. There were no sounds to indicate that anyone even resided in this building- no creaking of the floorboards, no coughs or snores, nothing. It was like walking in a vacuum, and Yoarashi was perplexed- until she saw the barest slivers of ink on the knob of the door that Jinin had stopped in front of, as well as the wires that she only noticed when he reached out to disassemble them.

She'd known seals and traps were common in a ninja's arsenal, but this was an eye-opener she hadn't quite expected. She made sure to let Jinin stay a good few steps ahead of her after that- she didn't quite favour the idea of being blown to bits right at the doorstep.

(God, why couldn't she just forget that had ever happened?)

The flat was, for all purposes, simplistic, yet conveniently arranged. Upon entering the room, the door led into a small hall that merely consisted of a low, traditional table in the centre of the hall, and a kitchen that had a couple of stoves and a pantry that lined the wall to her immediate left. On her right was a short corridor with two doors lining the hallway and one right at the end- she assumed one of those doors led to Jinin's personal quarters. The walls were painted white and beige- light colours that made it easier to spot any changes or marks left behind should an intruder barge in, she noted- while the tiled floor sported equally pale colours as well.

"There is a spare room down that corridor, where you will reside. Before you retire to bed, you will clean up in the washroom next to it- I will not approve of filth being tracked into the room." Jinin pointed at said corridor once both he and Yoarashi had entered the flat, barking out orders and wasting no time to set the rules. "I don't expect you to have any proper clothes to change into, so for now you'll settle for one of the old clothes in the cupboard- but only after you have cleansed yourself. We will deal with your wardrobe troubles another day- I don't have time to waste on something so insignificant."

Yoarashi was hardly offended by the implication of that last part- he was her master, whose main goal was to train her; not to care for and nurture her as a parent would. Instead, she blinked in astonishment at the other thing the man was hinting at. "I get my own room?"

Jinin nodded curtly, continuing to narrate his list of orders without bothering to address his charge's evident awe. "Do not enter my room at the end of the hallway, or any other place in this apartment other than your own and the washroom without my permit. Do not attempt to open any cabinets or windows before asking me beforehand, either- I will teach you to deactivate the necessary traps, but if you get careless..." Here, he spared her a condescending glare. "Your fight to live will have been for nothing."

"Understood, shishou." Yoarashi nodded, having no intention of defying his set of rules. Satisfied with her answer, the man then strolled towards the room he had assigned to her, tossing his mission pack on the floor next to the low table in the main hall that Yoarashi assumed served as the dining table. The girl watched carefully as her guardian disassembled even more traps and deactivated whatever seals had been inked into the door before he threw it open wordlessly, moving on to the washroom. Yoarashi, still carrying the pack that held her things, gazed into the room with nervous anticipation, eyes roaming over the plain white walls, the simple futon in the centre of the room and wooden closet that lay against the far wall, right next to the small window- probably rigged, too- that let what little moonlight that was available shine through. It was a room with a very simple layout, and yet... Yoarashi couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect.

"You should find what you need in that spare closet- that is the only one in this entire flat that isn't rigged. Your training begins the morning after the next," Jinin announced, and Yoarashi turned just in time to see him walking away from the now-clear bathroom door. He didn't even spare her a glance as he moved towards his room, instead cautioning her with a final statement of, "Be prepared."

With that, Yoarashi was left alone. Tentatively, she entered the room, careful not too walk too far in- she didn't want to 'track dirt' into the room, as Jinin so graciously put it. Her eyes roved over everything once more, her mind taking its time as it caught up to coherence in the midst of all her awe.

"My own room." She repeated again to herself, the words and their connotation still seeming so foreign and unreal. This was something that she could have to herself, something that she didn't have to distribute amongst a group. This property was still Jinin's- she had no delusions about that- but he had given her permission to deign it her own. This was, for the time being, _hers._

That... was more than enough.

* * *

The training ground that Jinin led her to was a fair distance from the apartment, positioned near the very top of one of the rocky cliffs that made up the mountain range that surrounded their village, like a cradle that protected their people- or a prison that kept those on the outside safe from them. Beyond the mountainous region were the wetlands that served as to keep the brunt of the monsoon seasons at bay, though most of the lower cliffs were made into training grounds to accommodate shinobi- case in point, her current situation.

It was a rather pleasant place, Yoarashi had to admit. The morning fog that surrounded the clearing was cool against her skin, curling its tendrils around the trees and the large ferns that populated the area. A river ran downhill several metres away from the centre of the clearing, providing an almost picturesque scene- had it not been for some of the prominently bald patches of shrubbery, a couple of trees that had been smashed in half, and some noticeably large craters in the ground nearby.

Well, at least the water was clean.

"Attack me."

Jinin's voice had Yoarashi snapping back to attention, her eyes widening in surprise. She wasn't sure she heard that right.

"What?"

"I said, attack me." Jinin's expression was stony, his frown only deepening when she hesitated. "Do not keep me waiting."

There was menace in that command, and even without the leeching of chakra or any shift in his seemingly normal stance, Yoarashi felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that whatever it was, she did not want to defy that order.

Evaluating the situation, Yoarashi contemplated her options. Going straight in was too obvious, but it was her only choice given how he didn't seem to be making the first strike. So long as he didn't move, she would have no means to retaliate or turn his strikes against him- in that sense, she was practically defenseless. She only remembered so much about the techniques she'd learned in her previous life, but... it would have to do.

Deciding on her method of attack, Yoarashi sprinted forward, watching as Jinin prepared to face her incoming assault. She noticed the way he shifted his stance slightly, leaning his weight on his right foot as it shifted slightly behind him- most likely a right hander, then. She filed away that information in case it came in handy.

Hah. She was a riot.

Just as Yoarashi was a mere two steps away from ramming into the shinobi, she fell to her knees, keeping one leg behind her and her right knee taking the brunt of her weight. Jinin started at the sudden change in movement, but before he could move Yoarashi locked her hands behind each of his thighs, positioning her head firmly right his side while keeping her posture rigid. With a grunt, the blonde pulled the shinobi's knees forward, at the same time rising to her own feet and pushing her head up against his side as she upended his balance. She felt him jerk in surpise as she just managed to lift him off the ground despite her small size- but of course, it wouldn't be that easy to take down a shinobi.

With unrelenting force, Jinin raised his arm before bringing his elbow down on her head. A choked gasp escaped her lips- _god,_ she felt like her brain stem had been dislocated from the force of that blow- and Yoarashi abruptly released him, allowing the shinobi to roll out of her reach and subsequently evade any of the submission moves she planned to use. The child growled under her breath as she got to her feet again, disappointed that she had lost the advantage of surprise. She wouldn't get that chance again- Jinin would be much more careful now.

Not letting her throbbing head dissuade her, Yoarashi rushed forward again and struck at the shinobi with the heel of her palm- a strike he avoided by merely taking a step back. He then attempted to sweep her legs out from under her, but she quickly avoided the swipe by sidestepping- right into his fist. Yoarashi was thrown back by the punch to her face- _Christ, did he have bricks for hands?_ \- but she ignored the pain as she regained her footing and dodged the strike Jinin aimed at her ribs. She tried to grab at his arm, but he moved too quickly for her and forced her to continue evading his flurry of strikes. Another punch, a kick, a swipe with his hand- he was moving at a slower pace than he was really capable of, she could tell, but even then blocking and dodging his blows were more difficult than she'd thought it would be. She got hit a few more times than she'd expected as well, receiving another blow to the face and even hitting the ground when Jinin's foot slammed into her gut.

The child panted as she rose shakily to her feet after yet another kick that caught her in the temple, roughly wiping off the dirt from her face. Jinin was barely winded, but she noted with a bit of pride that his posture wasn't as lax as it was when they first started out. He was taking her seriously- at least a little bit- and she was glad for that.

Even if it meant getting her ass handed to her.

Yoarashi rose to her feet, her knees trembling, and ran forth again, watching as Jinin braced himself in preparation for his next counter. Instead of attacking head on, however, she shifted her foot slightly and ended up moving towards his side, shifting her body horizontally as she did so. Crossing one leg behind her as she took another step, Yoarashi raised her leg and forcefully pulled it towards his centre- a move he blocked with his arm. Just as he grabbed her foot and prepared to throw her off, however, Yoarashi grabbed his shoulder and jumped slightly with her free foot, using her grip on his arm as leverage and kicking out at the back of his knees with all of her strength.

For a moment, she thought she had managed to unbalance him despite his initial block, but Jinin resisted her attempt and instead twisted the leg he'd grabbed, forcing a shrill cry out of her as she fell to the ground once more. Yoarashi heaved as she pushed herself to her elbows, ready to try again- her knees were knocking against each other, her legs shaking and muscles burning from the exhaustion- but the shinobi halted her with with merely a wave of his hand and a piercing glare right as she got to her feet. Killing intent leeched out of his coils, freezing the trembling child in her place with its silent warning.

Amidst the fear, Yoarashi scowled. She hated it when he used that- not only did it plague her with images of demise worse than any genjutsu could conjure, the fact that it was very much real and could easily be executed was what drove it home. It wasn't any conjuring of the mind or illusion, just plain fact.

She didn't get reborn just to die again- even if she had no idea how exactly she was going to live.

"Well?" Yoarashi asked when the silence dragged on, barely able to speak without hunching over and panting. Her head still throbbed from that first blow he'd dealt, but she refused to let her guard down just yet.

"Where did you learn to fight?" Jinin fixed her with a steady glare as he asked, belying the calm tone of voice with which he'd conveyed his statement.

"Learned some stuff on the streets," Yoarashi lied smoothly. She didn't know if grappling was a method used by any other citizen of this world, but it was best to let him assume that she had just made things up along the way.

"And yet you didn't display this level of skill when you attacked those children." Jinin's tone of voice remained even, but that didn't stop Yoarashi from feeling as though he'd slapped her across the face. "Why is that?"

"I didn't, because..." Yoarashi hesitated, recalling that fateful night with absolute clarity. She hadn't resorted to any of her grappling techniques at all when she had fought back then, having had little time to think about other options when she was so focused on the knife she carried. Abashed, Yoarashi recognised her mistake as tunnel vision- something that, against anyone else with proper fighting experience, would have cost her her life.

That wasn't right. That had been a problem she'd corrected long ago, back in her old life. She'd been better than that- able to formulate plans and keep a clear head even under duress. What was happening to her?

At a loss for words, Yoarashi blurted, "I panicked."

There was a beat of dead silence, during which Jinin stared at her as though hw wasn't entirely sure if she was joking or not. The child just shifted her weight nervously, unable to give any other justification- after all, it was the truth. The shinobi shook his head, frowning- whether at himself or her, Yoarashi wasn't sure.

"You have potential, but it needs to be worked on." He concluded, eyes darting over to hers once again as he spoke, his voice stern. "Consider the next few weeks to be your probation- if you prove yourself, I will accept you as my student. And take note- 'panicking' is no longer an excuse."

"Understood." Yoarashi looked away, embarrassed at her own carelessness. Thankfully, Jinin didn't linger on the subject, instead withdrawing a scroll from the holster in his flak jacket and spreading it out over the ground. With great interest, Yoarashi watched as the ninja broke the skin of his thumb against one of his needle-like teeth, swiping the blood across the centre of the seal inked across the parchment and summoning a pair of wooden practise swords. Bokken, if she remembered correctly.

"You will start by learning the basic kata," Jinin instructed as he tossed one of the practice swords at her- thankfully, she caught it without much fuss and avoided further embarrassment. The shinobi barely even looked at her as he spoke, rolling up the scroll and tucking it back into the holster. "Before we proceed, however, I want you to run eight laps around this field. I intend to see improvement in your time every week- fail, and your laps will be doubled."

Yoarashi blanched, and there was no mistaking the touch of smug glee in the smirk that Jinin shot her as he stated, "Begin."

She had a feeling it was going to be a very, very difficult few weeks.

* * *

By the end of the first week, Yoarashi was about ready to drop dead- were it not for the fact that she was actually being fed by her dictator, she probably would have, too. Jinin was utterly relentless when it came to training, drilling various kata into her head and forcing her to go through bouts of physical training that seemed to exceed the hellish standards she had encountered in the army. Come rain or shine, she ran through her exercises based on a strict schedule set by Jinin, though the very concept of time seemed to blur as she simply heeded whatever Jinin told her to do.

Admittedly, there was more to handling swords than Yoarashi expected. She thought she had an idea of how to handle blades, but she found herself being corrected by Jinin more than just a few times. From her stance, to the way she held the blade and the way she swung it, even the slightest error didn't escape his keen eye. In fact, he seemed intent on making sure she knew what she was doing wrong- usually Yoarashi got the message when he swung his own bokken at her and forced her into maintaining the proper stance to avoid being battered. She wasn't usually quick enough to catch his blows.

If all that wasn't enough, Yoarashi noticed that he hadn't dropped his tendency to inject killing intent into his commands- a sort of steel underline to his words that told her that if she did not obey, he would have no qualms about leaving her for dead. Cold fear crept upon her heart each time, for she knew that to him, her life was nothing. He could dispose of her if she disobeyed and it wouldn't make a difference. He could continue without any loss or impact on his life, as if she never existed.

That was what she was afraid of- that she would die like those boys she had killed. Nameless, faceless, just another Maigo. It was the sole motivation that forced her to her feet every time Jinin knocked her down, and it kept her going despite the exhaustion and strain her body was put through.

This session wasn't too different, either.

The heavy wooden blade of Jinin's bokken struck Yoarashi in the arm after her failed parry, hitting her with such force that she stumbled to the side. The bokken came down upon her again, and she only just blocked the blow with her own practice blade- her face contorted in pain as she felt the force of the strike reverberate down her bruised arms, a scowl crossing her bloodied face as she quickly jumped backwards to try and avoid Jinin's counterattack. It did her no good, however- the shinobi simply used his speed to dart behind her just before she could land, his foot colliding with her back and sending her flying a good few feet.

Yoarashi grunted as she hit the ground hard, even skidding across the grass and dirt before she came to a halt and pulled herself to her feet. Her skin was littered with shades of black and blue, the pattern broken only by the crimson trails that dripped from her nose and blossomed from the numerous cuts and scrapes that she sported. The girl spat out the blood that had gathered in her mouth, nearly gagging at the coppery tang it left on her tongue, and tried to rise to her feet. To her dismay, however, her knees merely ended up buckling beneath her and she fell yet again, heaving as the exhaustion finally caught up to her. She fought back the stubborn tears that gathered in her eyes- god, her muscles burned, everything hurt, she was so tired- but it did little to dissuade Jinin's disdain.

"Pathetic," The shinobi sneered as he stood over her, making his derision evident. "You won't last a minute if it was a real battle."

"I'm six. I'm not supposed to be in a real battle," Yoarashi retorted, speaking before her mind could catch up with her. She only managed to regret her decision too late- that is, when Jinin's eyes flashed dangerously and he stomped down on her hand, grinding his foot into the ground and eliciting a scream from her. For a moment, Yoarashi thought he was actually going to crush her hand beneath his foot, but he stopped short right as the tears finally began to fall from her eyes.

"Get used to it. Your age doesn't matter- you don't have time for self pity." Jinin's voice was cold, a look of disgust in his eyes at the weakness she so openly displayed. Removing his foot from her hand, he turned on his heel as Yoarashi quickly brought her hand back to her, cradling it close to her body. Not once did the jounin turn around as he left the training grounds- he didn't even bother to dismiss her properly, leaving Yoarashi alone in the middle of the field with her injuries.

A heaviness lingered in the pits of her stomach at his blatant disapproval, but Yoarashi refused to let herself cry. This was to be expected- there was no room for weakness; those who fell behind were left behind. That was the principle she was being taught to follow. The principle she tried to resist- it went against everything she was taught to adhere to once before- but was fighting a losing battle against.

Sucking in a deep breath, Yoarashi slowly pushed herself to her knees, allowing time for her legs to stop quivering before she finally placed a foot on the ground and forced herself to stand. She ended up stumbling when she did so, her injured hand darting out instinctively as she tried to catch herself just before she could hit the floor. A fresh wave of pain rippled through her arm upon impact, but she grit her teeth and leaned all of her weight onto that arm- she wouldn't cry out, absolutely not- as she pushed herself to her feet again. Her hand throbbed and ached as though the muscles were on fire, but Yoarashi refused to make a sound even as she limped after her shishou. No matter how much it hurt, she promised herself she would pull through. She had to.

Pain was worth it as long as she didn't have to return to the streets.

* * *

It was with vague surprise that Yoarashi noted the probationary period didn't just cover exercises that honed her physical endurance. Aside from training, Jinin had her study from texts that he had in his possession on certain days- she called such days 'breaks', for it was as close as she could get to an actual day off.

The jounin was oddly well prepared with the schedule he had set for her training as well, having made sure to cover all the grounds required for shinobi training with more than just a hint of sadistic satisfaction at the way she slaved towards the limits he set for her. Even so, the routine wasn't something she had expected- she would have assumed that he only wanted her to learn basic survival skills and shinobi rules from books, but he made sure that her general knowledge about the world was up to date as well. He had her read up on a number of things, the subjects ranging from battle tactics and calculations to world history and politics.

It was a rather strange routine, given Kiri's rather straightforward 'hack and slash at it until it stops moving' syllabus, but Jinin seemed insistent on making sure her education was well rounded. When she'd asked, he simply said that he considered the knowledge to be a necessity instead of an option, a mindset that was highly unexpected coming from him, of all people. She had expected him to be more... well, the polite word was 'simple-minded'. It was something she'd assumed from what she'd seen of him in the series- another two dimensional, overconfident, and possibly somewhat unstable murderer.

Yoarashi was learning quickly that she shouldn't assume she knew anything about her shishou just because a cartoon from her old life depicted him as a mindless killer. She didn't doubt that he was still a ruthless shinobi, but there were many aspects of Jinin Akebino that had never been expanded upon during what little screentime he'd had. It made her even more wary of this world than she initially was- one little slip, one wrong assumption about what she thought she knew, and she could lose a lot more than just her life.

Even without slipping up, however, it was difficult to keep things from someone who lived under the same roof. That much was proven when Jinin picked up in her sleeping schedule- or lack thereof. He brought the topic up while she memorised the locations of various tenketsu in the human body from one of the anatomy texts he had in his possession, speaking as though he was simply discussing the weather.

"You don't sleep well."

"No, shishou." Yoarashi nodded, only pausing for a second when he spoke. The jounin's lips thinned at her casual affirmation, clearly displeased at this drawback. Yoarashi hoped he couldn't hear how fast her heart was racing- the fear she had of being cast out from this man's care would have been amusing if she wasn't genuinely concerned about his opinion of her.

"You need to get proper rest," Jinin stated after a moment of contemplative silence, his voice hard. "You are worthless to me if you cannot even stay awake in battle."

"Yes." Yoarashi glanced away, fearing the next words that he would speak. Her knuckles shifted beneath the bandages they were covered in- to protect the raw skin that had been a result of all the taijutsu practice she'd been put through- as she flexed her fingers in a nervous gesture. She expected him to continue berating her, but instead, Jinin just sighed.

"There are sleeping pills in the medical kit." He motioned to the cabinet in the kitchen, not bothering to look up as he turned his attention back to his mission report. "If you want to use them, inform me. I will monitor your intake."

"...Thank you very much, shishou." Yoarashi blinked, unable to formulate a more eloquent response beyond that. She quickly turned her attention back to the textbook, trying to school her expression. Still, as she went on with her lesson, Yoarashi found that she was almost... grateful, that Jinin was willing to let her have this one kindness. Even if it was to overcome a hindrance, everything he offered her that didn't hurt her was a blessing, and she would take it without question.

(It wouldn't be until much later that night that Yoarashi realised she was thinking exactly how Jinin wanted her to. She didn't know what worried her more- the fact that it was working, or the fact that she didn't seem to care.)

* * *

The night following the first dose, Yoarashi dreamt. Visions of things that were yet to come- the eternal Tsukuyomi, the destruction of Konoha, the unification of the shinobi. Then came images of a land she didn't recognise, faces she didn't know, and flashes of red and silver that tainted the dark horizon. All of this, accompanied by the horrified cries of a feminine voice that was almost familiar, tormented her within the throes of a slumber that refused to let her go.

She didn't take any more pills.

* * *

Late into the third week of training, Jinin started teaching Yoarashi to hone her chakra manipulation. It seemed simple enough upon first glance- move chakra to a certain place, distribute it in the right amounts, form a few hand seals and boom, a jutsu. But of course, with her luck, it was never that simple. Despite having learned to suppress the energy, she struggled to weave her chakra into the right 'form' and to control its sheer power, usually resulting in over-expenditure that left her breathless. She assumed it was due to the imbalance between her yin and yang chakra- her weak physical body combined with her aged mind didn't make for a good combination- that was causing her so much trouble, and it didn't really help that Jinin was especially frustrated with her progress in this area. Said progress was practically nonexistent compared to her physical training- and even then, she wasn't growing strong fast enough to counter her dominant yin energy.

Her fear of Jinin's temper didn't do much to help her control, either. The last time he got impatient with her, it was because she couldn't maintain a proper form as she went through one of the more complicated kata he was teaching her- not to mention that he had just come home from another short mission in the middle of the night. Yoarashi had ended up bruised and bleeding in various places as he went on to attack her with his Kabutowari in order to force her to correct herself, and she had never feared her shishou as much as she had in those few moments. If he hadn't stopped the training session when he had, she was almost positive he would have broken something. Or worse.

(She remembered how she had cowered when he brought his axe down and shattered her first bokken, how her leg had been nearly broken by the force of his hammer slamming into her knee, and how he'd simply left the training grounds again after she pleaded- screamed, begged- for him to stop. For all of his control, Jinin was still a soldier- and the only outlet for his temper was her. She began to watch herself more carefully after that day.)

"That was your most pathetic attempt yet," Jinin snapped as Yoarashi's henge fell short again, her morphed appearance barely even appearing humanoid- her transformed features were squashed together in such a way that resembled crushed play dough, and the rest of her body proportions were completely off. What was supposed to be a transformation into Jinin ended up looking more like the Frankenstein monster's uglier cousin.

The weak transformation didn't even hold when Yoarashi released the hand seal and tried to let her chakra stabilise, the illusion dissipating instead of maintaining itself as it should have. The blonde was covered in sweat despite the lack of physical movement involved in training so far, her body hunched over as she tried to steady her breathing. She had been trying- and failing- to perform the simple technique for easily an hour now, and the lack of rest was getting to her.

"I-I'm sorry, shishou, I'll try again." Yoarashi stumbled over her carefully worded response, unwilling to invoke her master's wrath- he wasn't in a very good mood, she could tell. The pressure he was inflicting on her with his killing intent wasn't helping with the headache that always resulted from overuse of her chakra, and she could swear she was beginning to feel a tad queasy. Even so, she went through the hand seals again, feeling her chakra spread throughout her body and encasing it in a thin layer-

Right before it fell short, her nausea breaking her control.

"Well?" Jinin prompted when he noticed the clear lack of transformation, his voice gaining a sharp edge as he allowed his chakra to leak out even more. Yoarashi was unable to respond as she heaved, trying to use her chakra to combat the force of his own, but she quickly realised she couldn't. She had reached her limit.

And there was bile rising up her throat from all the strain. Yoarashi tried to swallow the urge- literally- to hurl, but found that she couldn't. In an attempt to warn her shishou to lighten up on the pressure and to give her a moment to get her reflexes under control, she tried to speak.

She only just managed to open her mouth before she reacquainted herself with her breakfast again. Jinin's feet were graced with the same privilege.

Training was cut short that day, right after Jinin had planted his vomit-soaked foot in her face before stalking off in barely contained frustration. All in all, it wasn't the worst day Yoarashi had had yet.

* * *

On the days that Jinin was called back for a mission, Yoarashi was not permitted to leave the apartment. Sometimes the jounin's assignment lasted days, occasionally over a week, but he always left her with enough supplies to sustain her needs. He'd taught her how to unseal the perishables he'd stored away in scrolls, showed her how to disable most of the traps around the apartment, and most importantly he set aside a schedule for what little training she could accomplish within the apartment itself.

It made her feel... isolated. As if he didn't trust her not to bail on him the moment he disappeared- at least, that was the feeling she got since he never taught her how to unseal the main door and the windows that were big enough to climb through. She didn't blame him for the caution, but it was stifling. Like she was his pet.

But that wasn't the only thing that made her uncomfortable.

Despite the lack of supervision that gave her plenty of time to rest and recover from the usual intensive training, Yoarashi found that as much as she hated being kicked around like a rag doll by Jinin, she hated the lack of his presence even more. Without the jounin around, things were quiet. Too quiet. It reminded her too much of the brief interlude between her death and her rebirth- those terrifying moments of dark, empty nothingness- and it gave her too much time to be alone with her thoughts.

Every horrifying, nasty whisper of her mind- all of it caught up to her in the silence. Memories that slowly began to fade, faces she tried to cling to but slipped out of her reach- all of it was disappearing, and she was terrified. She would talk to herself to keep the quietness at bay, reciting everything she remembered, every name and face and sight and smell, trying to hold on for as long as she could, but the fear permeated every positive thought that she tried to believe. She soon stopped talking to the emptiness once her initially calm sentences began to flow and twist into mindless gibberish- she couldn't keep it up without going completely mad, and that was the last thing she needed. Sleep was no better; the nightmares were more fervent, bearing chaotic whorls of colour and visions that steadily chipped away at her weathered mind. The only thing that kept her rooted to reality was the image of a face she had barely seen for a few seconds, printed on a cheap piece of paper which she clung to. The face of a woman she didn't know but grew attached to all the same as it kept her company on those restless days and nights.

And a voice. One she swore she could hear, speaking thoughts that were not hers and yet calming her all the same. It cut through the nightmares sometimes, soothing her agitation and allowing her a moment's reprieve from the maddening ambience.

Yoarashi may have hated Jinin Akebino- for the way he tormented her, for how he chained her to him like some glorified pet. Yet for all his faults, Yoarashi could not stomp down the relief she felt whenever she saw that old grouch back home, if only because there was finally someone who could chase away the silence.

* * *

It was during one of the breaks in between the relentless training regime that Yoarashi finally dared to voice the question that had been on her mind ever since Jinin signed the papers at the orphanage. Her teacher- could she really call him that?- was sitting on the grass a fair distance away from her, silently observing the horizon from their training spot up in the hills. The ex-soldier usually would have been content to watch the sun rising over the marshes right alongside him, but this time, she chose to break the usual silence. She needed answers.

"Why did you pick me?" Yoarashi asked, her voice wavering slightly- much to her disdain. She didn't dare look Jinin in the eye as he turned to look at her, instead choosing to fix up the bandages wrapped around her scarred fists as she spoke. "You could have just left that day, without bothering to look my way ever again."

As usual, there was a beat of silence before Jinin responded. "I saw potential. I chose to act on it."

"That's it?" Yoarashi finally looked up, slightly surprised at the simplicity and the almost careless response of her shishou, only to see that Jinin was already facing away from her again.

"Do you have anything useful to ask about?" The jounin questioned, his voice languid and almost insulting in its insinuation. Yoarashi clenched and unclenched her fists, willing herself not to get frustrated with the elusive shinobi- he was probably doing it on purpose just to rile her up, anyway. Or so she told herself.

"No, shishou," she responded, somehow maintaining a civil tone of voice. It was surprising how much a good beating could build up such fear and respect for someone above her position.

That didn't mean she liked being treated like a pawn, though. Nor did she like the fact that he could kill her without even trying.

"Good," The jounin grunted, waving his hand at her without even glancing over his shoulder. "Then go work on your water walking. At least get this much right- your chakra control is laughable."

Bristling, Yoarashi remained silent as she carefully avoided stomping her feet over to the small river that flowed through the training grounds. She wasn't upset that she hadn't gotten a serious answer to a question that she was genuinely concerned about- oh no, she was fuming. But she couldn't let her emotions get the better of her, not only because it completely threw off her chakra control, but because she needed this. As loathsome as it was to admit it, she had to have Jinin's approval. It was the only shot she had.

As Yoarashi left his presence, Jinin's lips curved into a frown, his gaze growing contemplative. He was no sensor nin, but even he was perceptive enough to notice that over the few weeks that he had been training her, the child's stamina was growing faster than he'd expected. She wasn't aware of it, but either her coils were maturing at a heightened pace, or her reserves were abnormally large- if anything, that confirmed the suspicion he had ever since he noted the child's uncommon features. There was noble blood running through those veins, likely from a foreign source. Who, exactly, was another story- though as her appearance matured, Jinin began to form suspicions of his own.

Regardless, one thing was for certain- Jinin had not been mistake about her potential. In fact, as he had previously observed, the child also displayed intelligence above her years and standing. It showed in the way she held herself during their spars- calculating, strategic, and above all, patient. She wasn't yet skilled enough to allow those traits to flourish in battle, and they hardly did her any good in a one-on-one fight against a more skilled shinobi, but with the right guidance...

A loud splash broke off Jinin's train of thought, the sound followed by a string of vulgar curses- some of which Jinin only barely understood from what little of the colloquials the lower castes used that he'd heard in passing. The swordsman clicked his tongue, feeling his annoyance grow.

It didn't matter how much potential she had, the child needed to get her chakra control in shape. And he had a few ideas as to how to speed up the learning process.

(If his methods curbed that sharp tongue of hers in the process, well, that was yet another bonus.)

* * *

The next morning, Yoarashi's cursing was replaced with muted gurgling and outright screams of terror as was forced to flee the piranhas snapping at her feet. Jinin just hung back and enjoyed the pleasantly rare sensation of sunlight beating down on his face, ignoring the hungry snapping of the piranha summon he'd borrowed and his charge's shrieking as she stumbled in and out of the water in her attempts to get proper footing on the surface. The swordsman himself was content with just letting the lesson go on as it was- the child knew better than to attempt fleeing the river without his permission after her first attempt resulted in him going after her with his own sword and chasing her back onto the water.

Even if she didn't master the technique that day, Jinin would at least credit her for her improvement in swimming.

* * *

"Why do you fight?"

A flash of surprise crossed Yoarashi's face at the question that Jinin voiced out of the blue in the middle of training, her bandaged hands faltering for a moment before she pulled her arm back and slammed it into the target on the tree trunk once again. Of all the things she had expected him to say while he monitored her physical training, that was not it. Still, he expected an answer, and her lips twitched into a frown as she tried to think of an appropriate reply.

"Because I want to live," She grunted, pulling her hand back and swinging the other one forward as she hit the target repeatedly. Her chest twinged as she acknowledged the uncertainty she felt about that statement, but she didn't let it show. "That's all."

"You lack vision." Jinin snorted, and Yoarashi's jaw clenched. He even had the gall to sound displeased, not that she hadn't expected it. "I thought you would be smarter than the rest of your kind."

Yoarashi's fist stopped just as she was about to hit the target again. With deliberate slowness, she lowered her hand, turning to face Jinin with her eyes narrowed. "You see, that's what I'm talking about. I want to live because of people like you."

Jinin's gaze turned sharp. "What?"

"I want you to see that I'm alive. That people like me exist, and you have no control over what I do or want," Yoarashi hissed, ignoring the fear that welled up beneath her bout of fury. She would not take such discriminatory comments from him, of all people- but that didn't mean she wanted to invoke his wrath, either. "I want you to see that I don't listen to what your bigoted opinion dictates. I want to live because it makes you angry that 'someone like me' can be just as worthy of living as the likes of _you_!"

The seconds of silence that followed her outburst felt like hours, during which Yoarashi awaited Jinin's response with trepidation. The anger she initially felt had faded away the moment she finished her rant, giving way to her mounting horror at what she had just done. She expected to be hit, maimed, or kicked to the other side of the mountain. Possibly even killed for her audacity and short temper.

Instead, all she got was a good shock as the jounin threw his head back and burst into laughter- genuine, unreserved laughter. Yoarashi was stunned- was she missing some sort of joke?

"That is what I was looking for," Jinin said as his laughter finally died down, amusement dancing in those usually cold eyes of his. "But of course, disciplinary action is still a necessity."

Well, she didn't get a kick like she had expected, but she couldn't say she didn't see that stranglehold coming. Yoarashi barely even had time to blink before Jinin had his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing before slamming her back against the stump of the tree she had just been practising on.

"Your drive is what caught my interest, child," Jinin commented, his amiable tone belying the way he tightened his grip around her neck. "But if you ever speak to me like that again, it will be the last time. Are we clear?"

Yoarashi, already struggling to breathe, could barely nod in response to his inquiry. Jinin released her almost immediately after, and she only just managed to catch her footing instead of dropping to the ground in a heap. While she struggled to catch her breath again (she hated him, hated this demeaning treatment) Jinin picked up the bokken she'd put aside and, instead of tossing it at her like he'd always had before, simply held it out to her and waited for her to take it. The blonde blinked owlishly at the bokken for a moment, her eyes darting from the wooden blade to the shinobi repeatedly before comprehension finally caught up to her. With more than just a bit of hesitation, she reached out and grasped the hilt, slowly accepting it from Jinin without once lowering her guard- she expected a trap, a surprise attack, something. But nothing happened; the shinobi simply backed away as if nothing had happened, his expression as unreadable as it always was.

"You will not hear any such comments against your background from me again." Jinin said it as though he was merely commenting on the weather, but the implication was still surprising enough that Yoarashi was stunned into silence. Without acknowledging her surprise, Jinin simply folded his arms and barked out the next command. "Let us resume. Run through your kata."

Having no reason to disobey, Yoarashi complied- but not without spouting a familiar curse under her breath. And though Jinin had not made any hint at it, she got the distinct feeling that she had passed some sort of test.

* * *

A contented sigh left Yoarashi's lips as she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair roughly with the aid of a towel. After a grueling day of training, it always felt good to be able to wash up and feel clean- she didn't think she would ever be tired of the luxury that was hot water from modern plumbing. As backwater as this world was, at least this one splendorous invention existed.

The blonde pulled on the spare clothes that Jinin had procured for her, arms slipping into the plain, short sleeved shirt with deliberate caution- touching the raw flesh of her skinned hands still burned slightly, though the calluses that were beginning to form made it so that the injuries weren't as sore as before. Once that was done, she smeared ointment onto her blisters and took the adhesive bandages that had also been provided, diligently wrapping her hands as per the routine that had been drilled into her mind after the past month. Treating her own injuries had become something of a norm, since Jinin seemed to think that any injury that didn't involve her bleeding out of an artery or a broken bone required any professional attention.

Besides, if there was one thing she noticed about her village from what she observed and read, it was that their medical services were abhorrent anyway. There was a general lack of medics due to the heavy focus the system placed on sheer combative force over backup and recovery forces, resulting in fewer advancements in the medical field. Though the land was rich with various flora, many of which were used for traditional remedies and the like, the modern medical services left much to be desired. Things such as antibiotics and other chemically-based medicines were either ancient or practically nonexistent, save for the basics. Many of their shinobi died due to wounds or illnesses that their village's medics had not developed methods to treat, and, in some cases, surgical or medical errors committed by inexperienced hands. All of this, not counting the deaths of shinobi who suffered from mental health concerns that jeopardised their state of mind as soldiers and as people.

The books she read never stated all of this directly, of course- but Yoarashi was intelligent enough to read between the lines of propagandistic bullshit when she saw it. Especially when the medics had tried to take a blood sample after they'd fixed her knee and had ended up jabbing her in the wrong place five times before getting it right. It didn't do much to improve her already poor opinion.

Snipping off the last bit of bandage that she'd wrapped around her wrist, Yoarashi flexed her fingers experimentally, nodding to herself as she noted that the wraps weren't too tight. She then uncapped the ointment bottle again as she prepared to apply the stuff onto the rest of her wounds, looking up at the mirror to determine the extent of the damage she'd received from the chokehold- before she paused.

She'd seen her reflection plenty of times before, but it never ceased to shock her every time she looked up and saw a face she didn't expect to see. Especially now that she was clean and free of all the dirt and grime that used to coat her features like a second skin, she could see that her hair was a lot paler than she'd initially thought it was. Almost ashy, really, instead of the dark blonde she had once assumed. She had also realised that her skin wasn't quite as pale as Jinin's or most of the local netizens. A barely noticeable difference, really, but it was what gave away her foreign blood; her position as a member of the lower castes.

In Kiri, every detail mattered. And yet... she didn't quite see what others did. She saw a complete stranger.

The child touched her face, and her reflection mirrored the action. With a hesitant, almost fearful delicacy, she traced her fingers over the outline of her lips, the slope of her nose, the dip of her chin and the slant of her eyes which followed every movement. She threaded her fingers through her hair and held several strands against her face, staring at the reflection of pale hair and skin that she just couldn't recognise as _hers_. The only feature that wasn't entirely alien to her was the world-weary, almost distant expression in her eyes, and even those were the wrong colour. Everything about this new life, even her own body, was so different. Unreal.

This skin and hair, these ears and lips and eyes... none of it was her. She didn't see the army officer from Earth in the mirror. She saw Yoarashi, a Maigo from the slums of Kirigakure in a world that wasn't supposed to exist- a world where she wasn't supposed to exist. They may have shared the same mind and heart, but they were different. There was no going back to who she was before, even if she had carried her burdens and fears over.

But her family, her friends, her entire life and purpose... everything that mattered to her was gone. She thought she had gotten over it, but now that her life was in less turmoil than before- now that she realised she actually had a chance at a future- she realised that the ache of loss had only been repressed. She had died, and the people she cared for had lost her- just as she had lost them. They weren't ever coming back, and neither was she.

Yoarashi didn't realise she was crying until she inhaled and her breath hitched, turning into a sob. Still, she muffled the sound of her crying with her towel, hoping that Jinin would not catch on to her bout of vulnerability. She crumpled to the floor of the washroom, trying to hold herself together despite the gaping emptiness in her heart that had been tearing her apart without her even noticing it. For the first time since she had entered into this second life, the reborn soldier felt like the child that she was, and not the twenty eight year-old officer that had once been.

* * *

The sound of the sharpening stone against the blade of his axe soothed Jinin's ears, further easing his surprisingly calm mood that night as he sat upon the roof of his apartment. He usually preferred to clean and maintain his axe and hammer within the confines of his abode, but tonight he decided he needed the open space- and he wasn't willing to steal more hours of sleep from his charge with the noise the process would make. He noticed that she had stopped taking the sleeping meds despite her insomniac tendencies, but he made no move to force them down her throat- he had better ways to spend his time, and if she fell behind he would simply drop her. He was rather calmed by the steady, repetitive movements as he sharpened his blade, the rest of the cleaning utensils already by his side- under the cover of night, wrapped in the embrace of mist that he had learned to find comfort in after all these years, he could almost say he felt at peace.

Almost- because he sensed a familiar presence approaching his spot on the flat cement roof at that very moment. Jinin held back a sigh as the hulking figure leapt onto the roof without making a sound- not even the air shifted upon his landing, as he expected from one of his skill. The Kabutowari wielder made no move to glance up or to greet the intruder, instead letting him initiate the conversation.

"So? What's the verdict?"

Jinin shrugged in response to the man's inquiry, continuing with the maintenance of his most treasured Helmet Splitter. He had intended to spend the late hour doing so as a meditative measure as he prepared himself for the task he was to do tomorrow, though the sudden appearance of his nosy comrade interrupted his initial intentions somewhat. His fellow swordsmen weren't the easiest to deal with, and he'd have to break the news to them sooner or later- though it would be just his luck that _he_ would inquire before the appropriate timing he had planned.

"She learns quickly. I think I will continue to sponsor her." He remembered the look on the child's face when he made his comments on the Maigo- there was a resentment in her gaze that told him that she would have no qualms about killing him if he wasn't the reason she was alive. He had a feeling about this one- there was something about the kid that didn't seem quite right, but he knew he could use that. Refine it into something that he could benefit from.

There was derisive snort from the other man upon his reply, halting Jinin's train of thought. His tone implied disbelief, though mostly condescension- Jinin found himself scraping the stone against his blade just a bit too hard when the man spoke again. "First Raiga, and now you. Is there something about collecting strays that appeal to you both so much? Charity out of contrition, perhaps?"

"I'm not inclined to answer that," Jinin responded coolly. He would not let his comrade rile him up so easily, though he was certainly tempted. Finally shooting the trespasser a bored glance, he then decided to turn the tables on him with a question of his own. "When can you perform the test?"

The newcomer snorted, though Jinin noted with smugness that the question seemed to have annoyed him. "Not now. The boy is taking up too much of my time in between missions. After the next deployment, maybe."

"Just get it over with as soon as you can. I don't like waiting."

Instead of sounding aggravated, like Jinin had initially expected, Fuguki Suikazan just laughed, shooting the older jounin a shark-toothed smile. With the light of the moon illuminating his massive silhouette, the Kiri no Isonade looked just as monstrous as his moniker suggested.

"No need to continue your nagging, Jinin. I'll admit, even I'm a bit curious about your little... pet." Fuguki smirked to himself, not noticing the slightly louder scrape of metal against stone yet again as he absently placed his own hand on the hilt of the the giant sword strapped to his back. "Samehada hasn't had any interesting samples for a while now. Maybe she will make an interesting meal."

Though he remained silent, for the first time since the conversation had started, Jinin agreed.

* * *

 **AN: Was that a lowke** **y** **Shakespeare ref in the title along with that quote? Mmm** **y** **is. That goes out to my Shakespeare enthusiast beta Max** **y, f** **or putting up with all my bs and helping me figure out where this plot is going. The true MVP.**

 **So, uni has been an experience. I greatly apologise for the delay in updates and also review replies. But I just gotta sa** **y- I** **really do appreciate all of** **y** **our support for this lil plot bunny that just sprung to life! If at this point Yoarashi's personalit** **y seems to be, well, nonexistent, it's somewhat intentional since we're still sorta building things up (and she's still getting used to this whole new scenario and her new set of 'problems')** **. Setting the foundation for this stor** **y and her future interactions is, admittedl** **y, taking more time than I thought. I'll do my best to make things a little more interesting next chapter!**

 **Shout out to all of you who followed, favourited, reviewed or even just browsed through this story, too! Ya'll are the best, and I hope I'm able to work out this plot to the best of my abilities. Stay chill.**


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